


Comfort Zone

by orphan_account



Series: Comfort Zone [1]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Parallel Universe, Series, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Zone

**Author's Note:**

> Written in Summer 2008. Part of the What If universe.

COMFORT ZONE

 

PART ONE:

 

January

 

He walked into the kitchen, seething. Bloody, bloody Hannah! Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut! Now the whole bloomin school knew. And Craig, what must he be thinking? God, rating him? Like a horse or something. Was that what it was: force him into bed so she and Sarah could compare notes? It was private – what they did in the bedroom. He didn’t want Craig to know the things he did. Damn it! He slammed open a top cupboard door, hesitating as he found himself confronted by an array of sparkling glasses of every shape and variety that he somehow sensed had seldom seen the light of day. And where the fuck were those bloody bowls? Slamming the door shut he leaned down to the bottom cupboard.

“I knew you weren’t as okay as you were letting on.”

Craig was in the doorway, coat on, expression neutral.

“Sorry?” He turned to face him, first taking a moment to compose his own expression. He settled on mild puzzlement.

Craig walked into the kitchen, not looking at him. He delved into the bag John Paul had brought with him, began to remove crisps and peanuts. “The Soccer Camp – you still want to go.”

John Paul bit back his first response, dropped to his haunches and began to select bowls. The silence settled around them, the rustling of crisp packets the only sound he was aware of.

From a distance came the faint sound of female laughter.

“Shall we mix them up or a bowl for each variety?”

“Separate bowls – one mixed.” God were they really talking about bloody crisps?

“Okay. Peanuts and cashews-“

“Separate bowls.”

“Right. So...”

He stiffened, not wanting to have this conversation – not now, not ever. “Yeah?”

“Some bowls, then?”

He turned, couldn’t help himself. Craig was grinning. He feinted a throw at him, then laughed as the other boy ducked, sending packets flying. “Too slow. Good thing you’re good with your feet and too short to be a goalie.” He rose, bowls neatly stacked, placed them on the table.

Craig was slowly recovering his dignity. “I’m a good goalie – just bloody hate it!

John Paul laughed. “I know – it’s like, what’s the point?”

“Tell me about it. Like you’re really gonna get excited about standing there, freezing to death, bored to tears, constantly hit in the goolies by a ball travelling 100 mph and then being blamed for letting a goal in! Do me a favour!”

“I know.” They occupied themselves sorting out crisps, having a long, fruitless debate on whether or not Salt and vinegar should be left strictly in its own bowl.

“I still want to go, you know,” Craig’s voice was quiet, serious.

John Paul didn’t look up. “Me too.”

“So what do we do?”

“Craig it isn’t up to me. You promised Sarah you’d go on holiday with her instead...” He trailed off, aware that the bitterness he was feeling was bleeding through in his tone and neither of them needed to go there. Ever.

“I told her I hadn’t managed to tell you.” Craig’s eyes were big and pleading. “Told her we got interrupted as I was trying to break it to you. She expects me to tell you now.”

They stared at each other, the sound of music and laughter from upstairs punctuating the tense silence.

“And?”

“And I don’t want to go to the Costa what the hell ever, obviously! But I need a way to get out of it.”

“Craig, can’t you just tell her, tell her you can’t, that you want to got to the Soccer Camp?”

“Are you nuts?” Craig had lowered his voice and unconsciously pulled closer. John Paul noticed a stray piece of crisp clinging to his sleeve and felt his gaze drawn there. “My life wouldn’t be worth living!”

John Paul looked up at him, genuinely not understanding. “Why? What’s the problem?”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Do you know what it’s like to be cut off indefinitely?” His gestures, with eyes, hands and head quickly clued John Paul in.

“Ah! But surely she’d get over it.”

“Yeah, but we can find a way where she won’t be angry with me at all.” That look again. “Can’t we?”

“Craig...”

“See she’d understand if you weren’t up for it. And she wouldn’t be angry with you. She likes you John Paul.”

“Probably not after I bollix up her holiday.” He carefully emptied a packet of cashews into the bowl. This was just typical of Craig. Why couldn’t he sort his own mess for once? “I don’t know...”

“Look we’ll wait until they come down, she’ll try to suss if I’ve asked you, I’ll ask you in front of everybody. You blow a gasket and then I say ‘oh well, better go to the Soccer Camp then’. See? Simple.”

“Craig I am absolutely rubbish at that sort of thing. I’ll mess up, I know I will.”

“John Paul.” Craig’s hand was on his arm. He could feel its warmth even through his jacket. “Do we want to go to Soccer Camp this summer?”

“Craig...”

“So we have to try, don’t we? It’s the only way.”

“And it’s my fault if it doesn’t happen?” He was starting to feel annoyed.

“No, cos I shouldn’t have let myself get talked into a bloody holiday in the first place. But we’re mates and we stick up for each other, watch each other’s backs.”

“Lie for each other.”

“Exactly.”

He looked at Craig, trying to convey his exasperation. First he’d dropped the bomb saying the camp was off, an hour later here he was trying to get John Paul to cover his arse by lying and - no matter what he said - making whether they went to the US that summer down to him. “I’m not happy about this. I think you should come clean and just say you don’t want to go on holiday with her – this year. Promise her next year or something. I mean-“

Craig’s face had changed, lips pursed in a frown of annoyance. “What makes you think I’ll still be with her next year?”

This was so unexpected that John Paul could only stare at him.

A door opened upstairs and Hannah’s low tones could be heard counterpoint to her brother, then Sarah. He recognised Sarah’s distinctive tread as the group made their way across the hall to the stairs.

“John Paul,” Craig said with some urgency.

Oh fuck it. “Don’t blame me if I mess up and make it ten times worse.”

A quick pat on the arm, reassuring smile then Craig, having hastily grabbed two bowls, was hurrying into the lounge.

He stood paralysed for a moment, listening to the sound of the girls laughing, wondering how the heck he was going to be able to get through the next few minutes. He wouldn’t even be able to look Sarah in the eye. And then when the lying started he’d be sure to start blushing and stammering. It was going to be so humiliating and Craig would be in so much trouble. He really, really didn’t need this. And on top of everything he was still pissed off with Hannah. Great, just great...

 

**

 

Sarah was being really annoying. She often was but this time her intrusive questions and knowing grins, the little shared conspiratorial glances with Hannah, (who was clinging limpet-like to his side, sliding even closer each time he subtly tried to create a slight vacuum between them – not a huge chasm, just a slight space so that his lungs had some room to expand) were really getting on his nerves.

Craig had been just a little hyper (to John Paul’s mind), clearly not himself, but neither of the girls seemed to notice. He tried hard to relax but between Sarah, Hannah and Craig he was practically jumping out of his skin.

“So when are you two going on your hols?” Sarah was saying, practically winking at them, her hand resting possessively on Craig’s thigh. The way she said ‘your hols’ might as well have been translated as ‘when are you two going to shag each other’s brains out then?’

He gritted his teeth as he felt Hannah’s shining eyes on him, like she wanted to know the answer to that question too. Fucking hell! Why wasn’t Craig doing something? Wasn’t a mate supposed to always have your back, no matter what, no matter where? Craig seemed totally distracted, lost somewhere in his own head, probably rehearsing the little scene he had planned... Come to think of it now would be the perfect time to put it into action...

“Well I don’t think there’ll be much time what with me and Craig going to the States.” Oh there you go – he’d stolen a march on Craig and broached the subject himself. And oh look Craig had woken up - and then some!

A pin could have dropped in the hall and they’d probably all have heard it.

He held Sarah’s gaze, smiling as one would if one were completely unaware that there was quite another agenda in operation here. He avoided Craig’s stare with no difficulty at all, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Well it was on! Time to see just how good a player Craig actually was.

If Sarah’s hair’d started hissing he for one wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. How Craig hadn’t been turned to stone by her Gorgon stare he just didn’t know...

“You’re still going to the States?” Her question was clearly addressed to John Paul but her gaze was fixed on her hapless boyfriend, who from what John Paul could see was trying his best to disappear into the cushions.

“What do you mean?” John Paul inwardly marvelled at himself – god he could act. He’d never realised that before.

Sarah’s face – yeah flesh to stone alright. “I mean I didn’t realise the Soccer Camp was still on.”

He laughed. “What? Why? We’ve been planning it for months. I’ve just got us slotted in to do the FA coaching certificate and we’ve been in touch with the outfit running the programme letting them know we’ll definitely be coming, so yeah of course it’s still on.” He turned a disingenuous gaze on Craig. “That’s right isn’t it mate?”

“Yeah, yeah course it is, mate. What do you think?” Craig had got a second wind and his clever brain was going into high gear now, starting to see this opportunity for the unexpected gift it was. “March for the certificate isn’t it?”

Oh he was good. “Late Feb. Got lucky, but we’ll have to travel to Liverpool. I was offered Manchester, but thought Liverpool...”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. And then what mid July for the camp?”

“Yeah. Can you imagine - 4 whole weeks! So by the time we get back our results should be on the kitchen table – well yours probably will be – mine will have been opened and pored over by my sisters’ grubby paws more than likely.” Oh and why not put the absolute cap on it now he was on a roll? “It’s the first holiday I’ve ever had without my family. First time I’ll have been further than Paris! Been looking forward to going to the States for years, mate - years. And that we get to play football while we’re over there? Dream come true. Seriously.” Oh my this was fun! Sarah looked like she’d just swallowed a lemon – full of maggots – her gaze on him struggling between baleful, sympathetic and curious.

Craig had that half smile that John Paul hated and loved, feared and relished in equal measure. His body language had changed from oh fuck to yes! in the space of seconds! “Yeah I remember you saying...Remember the first day we met and you told me your dream was to go to the States?”

He remembered that? And there was something about the way he said ‘the first day we met’... “So when I saw the Soccer Camp up in the common room I thought it must be a sign or something. I mean we’re never going to get another chance like this – ever –are we?” He turned on the full beam of his smile and directed it at Sarah and then, because why the hell not, on Hannah too. She beamed back at him, and he wasn’t surprised when she leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek. “What was that for?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, snuggling in, looking at him like he was Superman or something.

“Yeah, mate opportunity of a lifetime. What?” The last was addressed to Sarah who was looking at him with an expression made of 2 parts rage and 1 part utter contempt

She rose to her feet, practically quivering with suppressed anger. “Hann, we’ve got to get off. Sorry.” She didn’t look sorry, her attention not even on Hannah, but wholly given over to Craig, who, not taking the hint was still sitting, looking up at her in apparent bemusement. “Come on, you.” She grabbed his arm and attempted to haul him to his feet. He’d noticed that before; the way Sarah pushed Craig around, often physically too – like he was a possession or something, with which she was allowed to do as she pleased.

“What?” He shrugged her off. “I thought we were going to have a nice get together. You spent most of the time upstairs with Hannah and barely spoke to John Paul. No let’s stay for a bit. It’s Hannah’s birthday; let’s celebrate it.”

“Hannah’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she said, voice like ice. “I need to talk to you. Come on.” She grabbed her coat and started to the door. “Hann, sorry. Call you later, yeah? Craig?”

Craig considered for a few seconds, staring at John Paul. John Paul couldn’t read him at all, but hoped his own expression conveyed sympathy and the hope that he wouldn’t bloody cave. Well if he did he’d blow a gasket – for real this time. If Sarah tried to get Craig to go on the holiday even after everything he’d just said he didn’t care – he’d excoriate her! Selfish bloody cow!

“Are you coming?”

With an exaggerated sigh – an error of judgement John Paul was sure he’d be made to regret very, very shortly – Craig levered himself up off the sofa. “Hannah, happy birthday for tomorrow.” He slung his bag across his chest and made his way to the waiting Sarah. As he passed the sofa he leaned in and whispered in John Paul’s ear. “Call you later.” The unexpected proximity of his face, the slight stubble where he’d been careless shaving rubbing against John Paul’s cheek; the scent of his aftershave all served to make John Paul just very slightly dizzy...

He smiled at the shoulder clasp but didn’t acknowledge the words since he was pretty sure the whispering had been for a reason...

When they heard the click of the front door Hannah turned into a ravening beast, all subtlety (not that subtlety was her strong suit) out the window. The kissing was bad enough, but when her hand sneaked between his legs he had to call a halt.

“Josh,” he warned, trying hard to resist the urge to swipe a hand across his mouth.

“Well why don’t we go to my room then?” She was on his neck, sucking at him like something out of a horror film.

“Hannah, no I don’t really feel comfortable with anyone else in the house.”

He felt her staring at him, clearly considering how bad it would look if she were to say: ‘I don’t give a fuck’ the way she obviously wanted to. “We could be really quiet, John Paul. He’d never know.”

Well she’d never managed to be quiet on any of the other occasions they’d been down this particular road. He had no such qualms about his ability to not make a bloody sound with her... “Hannah, no. Can’t we leave it till tomorrow?” The way her eyes lit up made him think cunnilingus for some reason, giving rise to a heartfelt inward groan. Well anything could happen between now and then and at least he’d postponed that... option... for another day. He was confident he’d be able to find a way of getting out of it come the day too. Right; time to make tracks.

He managed to extricate himself from Hannah’s grip without actually peeling each of her fingers from his person and stood, hoping the smile he’d found was regretful and not relieved. “Well I’d better go, Hann. Pity Sarah and Craig broke up the party. It would have been good.” Yeah sure – with Hannah all over him like a whore and Sarah pulling Craig’s chain like he was her pet or something. A brief image came to him then and he shuddered inwardly, tried to shake it off.

“Oh John Paul.” She was standing now and again his thoughts were being really mad today because he couldn’t help thinking that if she’d been a bloke she’d probably have had a bulge in her pants right about now. He closed his eyes briefly and tried not to outwardly shudder. “Can’t you stay just a little longer?” The hand on his arm, the ‘seductive’ look in her eye... Oh for god’s sake.

“Sorry Hann. I’ll call you tomorrow though – early.” He had managed to work his way into the hall, the front door shining in his view like the Holy Grail...

“Oh if you’re sure.” She’d scurried after him and was still coming. Oh god the goodbye kiss! Did she really think that that look was seductive? Oh well he’d have to give it some serious welly or he’d not be her blue-eyed boy for much longer though there was the real possibility that if he gave it too much she’d not want to let him go and the cunnilingus would be on her mind as a definite birthday treat all night long... Oh god...

 

**

 

“So you’re still with us then?” Craig had called him at midnight sounding hoarse and very much the worse for wear.

“Only just, mate. Only just.” He coughed, cleared his throat.

John Paul wanted to ask him about the throat, but really didn’t want to know what he’d been doing to make him so hoarse. Craig had once made a reference to it and it had made him really uncomfortable, not only thinking about Sarah that way, but more importantly thinking about Craig doing...that. “So?”

“Oh don’t worry – it’s sorted.” He didn’t even sound smug, just really under par.

John Paul pushed the thoughts away – hard. “So now I’m going to have to slot us in for that FA coaching certificate.”

Craig managed a snort. “You are a star! I never knew you had it in you, mate.”

He wasn’t the only one. “Well we had to make it good –Sarah looked like she was considering boiling you alive, then eating you after.” Craig made a remark under his breath which John Paul pretended not to hear – or understand. “And I did get in touch with the Soccer Camp, but just to make general enquiries – no definite confirmation.”

“Well should we do that – make a definite confirmation?”

That would be a good idea, that way bloody Sarah couldn’t try to talk him out of it again. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll see which dates are available and sort it. I think two weeks after the last exam...”

“Oh I don’t know I should think we’d be ready to head off sooner than that. I’d like to go pretty much the minute the last one's out the way.”

John Paul considered. “Well me too if I’m honest. I was just wondering... with you heading off to Trinity-“

“*If* my results are up to snuff.”

“Yeah, but we get the results on the 16th and I mean are you going to have enough time to sort everything properly...I mean if we’re in the States for most of July-“

“Don’t worry about it – it’ll be sorted.”

“Okay.” He smiled, settled into bed. It was pretty cold in his room anyway and it was nice to have an excuse to snuggle down. It felt really comfortable talking to Craig this way.

“So how did it go with you and Hannah after we left?”

After you were forcibly removed you mean. “Oh we talked for a bit then I left.”

“Oh yeah?” He had no trouble recognising that tone in Craig’s voice and he was simply in too good a mood to have it be spoiled by all the little false notes he was aware characterised most of their Hannah Discussions.

“We made out a bit then Josh made his presence felt and well...”

“Oh embarrassing!”

“It was a bit. Not sure which of us was more mortified. Josh’s face!”

Craig was openly chuckling now. “I can imagine. He didn’t ...see...anything...he shouldn’t have did he?”

John Paul shuddered at the thought, though he wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Josh seeing either his sister’s anything or his anything that had him making a face. “Luckily there wasn’t anything on display – at that stage.”

“But it was getting pretty hot and heavy. Yeah I know, been there, mate; Amy walked in on me and Sarah and she definitely copped an eyeful. You know the way Amy’s eyes are kinda big anyway...?”

John Paul laughed, wanting this subject to end. Right now. “They don’t look anything alike her and Sarah.”

“Well they do a bit – both got a bit of height to them.”

“I suppose.” Think of something – other than Sarah or anything to do with Sarah... “Looking forward to the coaching. Should be a blast.”

“You telling me – can’t wait. And you said we’d have to go to Liverpool?”

“Well we could, but Chester Football Club runs courses too. We could even got to Lilleshall – residential weekend.”

“Seriously? Man that’s brilliant! Lilleshall, man that’s like a dream. We might even get to meet some England players.”

 

John Paul laughed. “Slow down – don’t even know if we can fit it in, if there are even any places available. I mean those courses are bound to get booked up well in advance!”

“I suppose. How soon can we find out? I want us to book it as soon as possible!”

“Well I’ll check tomorrow. Oh and I found some online courses – also run by the FA – one specifically aimed at coaching Soccer Camp.”

“You are joking!”

John Paul laughed, gratified that he could make Craig sound like that – like all his birthdays had come at once. “There are some other really useful courses available too. I thought we could probably go through them together – that way we’d learn together. I mean it’s online so-“

“That sounds fantastic. Book us on those too!”

John Paul wondered how Michaela (it was always Michaela) wasn’t banging on the wall – he wasn’t exactly being quiet, or even attempting to be. “Don’t you think you should have a look *first*?”

“Yeah, okay, but let’s get together soon, yeah? Get it all sorted.”

“Tomorrow? Got the day free.”

“Sorry, mate, promised Sarah.”

Well he didn’t care to ask what he’d ‘promised Sarah’. Time to end the conversation anyway. It was pretty late. “Okay then. Gotta go – Michaela’s banging on the wall.”

“Sorry. Okay. I’d best be making a move myself. See you later, mate.”

“Yeah, see you.”

“And make sure you get her a nice present or your life won’t be worth living. Take it from someone who knows.”

 

John Paul smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got just the thing.”

 

**

 

Friday was pretty hectic. He spent ages on the FA site trying to sort out courses. It was as he’d feared: no chance with the national courses held at Lilleshall. There was also nothing doing with the courses at Warwick Uni. Shame – he’d have preferred to do one of the intensive residential ones, would have been easier to slot in. If they had to do the 20 – 40 hour course Chester would obviously be the better bet, but God Chester instead of Liverpool? He was sure Craig would agree with him: if they were going to do it much rather do it in Liverpool than bloody Chester. He made a note of both numbers, planning to discuss the pros and cons later with Craig. Which reminded him: he still hadn’t got those hair straighteners for Hannah yet!

 

*

 

Well it was a good thing he’d left a bit of time for this: who’d have thought that something as simple as buying hair straighteners would cause him so many problems?

For a start he didn’t know where to buy them. He tried the local chemist and that had proved a monumental waste of time so he’d had to head into town. Boots and Superdrug sold them, but he still wasn’t sure and who the heck was Nicky Clarke? In the end he went to the old standby – Argos - and bought the most expensive ones he could find. Surely that would please her – if they were the most expensive then they had to be the best didn’t they? He had decided not to consult any of his sisters because they were all menaces in their own way and Tina – the only one he could have asked...well he didn’t think she actually used straighteners! He briefly wished that he had consulted one of them at least then quickly dismissed the thought as the product of a tired and confused mind...

 

**

 

The party was in full swing by the time Craig and Sarah put in an appearance. He saw immediately that they’d both already had a few, Sarah’s eyes at half-mast, Craig’s grin just a little too wide.

“Alright mate?” A hearty clap on the shoulder. “Sorry we didn’t meet you earlier.”

“It’s alright.” It wasn’t, but he really wasn’t in any mood to talk about it any more than he needed to. Craig was under Sarah’s thumb and that was all there was to it. In fact if he hadn’t taken control the other day they’d probably have ended up binning the soccer camp in favour of jetting off to Marbella or something with the ‘girls’ in tow. Oh and wouldn’t that have been fun?

“Hannah, where’s Hannah?” Sarah was leaning on Craig’s shoulder, inane grin on her face.

“In there last time I looked.”

“Hannah? Hannah?” She stumbled off, tugging Craig with her. When their hands loosed – there was a quite a crowd between them and their ultimate destination – she carried on; Craig stayed.

John Paul smiled at him. “How many has she had?”

He put a hand up to his mouth, burped quietly. “Lost count, mate. I suppose it’s my fault – kept them coming.”

John Paul gave a tight, non-committal smile. He so did not want or need to hear about the ins and outs of their relationship. “Did you get a joint present or...?”

“Well I wanted to get individual ones, but apparently it’s expected – from couples – to get a joint one. “ He shrugged. “I don’t know about these things, just do what I’m told.”

Another tight smile. “So what do you think of the music then?”

Craig put an arm around him, pulling him toward the front door. They ended up leaning against the wall. “It’s shit.” His eyes lit up as though he’d just had a brilliant idea. “You should take over, take charge of the music.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah I think Hannah’s dad would be really impressed with that. According to Hannah he had a hand in the music selection. Apparently he consulted an ‘expert’.”

Craig snorted, leaning on his shoulder, so close there was hardly an inch between the edge of his shirt and Craig’s cardi. “Well between me and you YOU should have been the ‘expert’ he consulted.”

“How many have you had?”

“Not enough, not nearly enough.” He leaned his head against John Paul’s shoulder, groaning.

John Paul forced a light laugh, heart pounding. “I beg to differ. You’re probably best sleeping it off, mate.”

“Okay, lead me to the nearest bed.” He groaned again, but raised his head from John Paul’s shoulder, turned so his back was also against the wall. “I’ve got a good idea – how about we find some snacks. Kitchen.” He pulled at John Paul’s shirt, his careless touch opening a button. He took a firmer grip on the shirt and carried on walking, greeting friends and strangers alike.

They were waylaid before they could reach the kitchen...

 

**

 

Well yeah she did look really nice, smelled nice too, but her attitude stank. Sure it was her ‘big day’ but that didn’t give her the right to monopolise him all night.

She’d grabbed him as Craig towed him through a sea of bodies and practically tore him in half – her tugging on his hand, smiling, Craig pulling on his shirt, intent on reaching the haven of the kitchen. The shirt was a new one – and a personal favourite – and he’d damn well make her buy him another if so much as a single button lost its moorings. The fact that it was Craig who was in far more danger of ripping off more than a button seemed not to make any sort of impression on his consciousness.

“John Paul! We’re about to open the presents.”

So? “Hann, Craig-“

“Can’t wait to open yours. Come on. Mum, dad, John Paul’s here.” Her parents looked about as excited at this prospect as one might expect.

“Hello John Paul,” his mum said pleasantly enough. She looked like she’d been dipping a little too often into the cooking sherry, but he was used to that, his mum seeming to take the excuse of cooking for a ‘celebration’ as a perfect opportunity to test her ability to cook whilst rolling around the kitchen like a drunken sailor on a wind tossed galleon.

“Hello Mrs. Ashworth – lovely party.”

“Nothing too good for our Hannah.” She beamed at her daughter.

“Mum!” He’d always suspected Hannah was a little spoiled – this occasion seemed to be going some way to proving that.

“Come on, presents Hannah.” Her father’s tone brooked no disobedience which was weird considering it was an activity that was essentially meant to be fun.

He’d never really warmed to Neville Ashworth even before he’d started ‘dating’ his daughter. He’d come across his type before of course - they were often these really sad, humourless teachers - geography, maths or one of the sciences usually – getting everyone’s backs up with their petty adherence to petty rules, having no insight at all as to how they came across. They often found niches as clerks in the Civil Service too more often than not. Or small shopkeepers, happy in the belief that because they ‘ran a business’ they were a cut above the other people in the town. Yeah he knew the type alright.

Neville Ashworth gave him a nod – for politeness sake only if John Paul was any judge – then turned to his daughter.

 

Well the straighteners probably hadn’t been that hot an idea. He’d seen the glance exchanged between mother and daughter and he had sisters – he knew what that look meant. Still it was the thought that counted or so Hannah tried to reassure him as diplomatically as possible all without actually saying that at all.

His smile felt stapled on and he hoped he didn’t look as much like a baby deer caught in headlights as he actually felt. Where the hell was Craig?

“Hann – I’m just going to see if I can find Craig.” He had the sense to have started moving – away from the orbit of her reach – as he said this and had reached the kitchen door by the time the last syllable left his lips.

He could see the disappointment in her eyes (shit, cunnilingus later it was then!) but she smiled and nodded, mouthing something that he deliberately chose not to understand...

 

**

 

Craig wasn’t in the kitchen and after a moment of puzzled indecision he headed for the back yard. Craig was leaning against the wall, scoffing what looked to John Paul’s tutored eye (he’d bloody well been forced to help his mum make those!) like an entire plateful of mini quiches. He looked up guiltily as the door opened, but when he saw it was John Paul breathed a gusty sigh of relief and carried on eating.

“I take it you didn’t want to spoil your appetite with tea or anything?” he said, nodding at the plate.

“Sarah said we’d be better off – said Hannah would put on a good spread...”

“Which I see you’ve selflessly undertaken the burden of sampling for the rest of us.” He grabbed a handful of pastries, put one in his mouth. “These are good.”

“Hannah’s mum’s a great cook!”

“Unlike?”

“Well mum has her moments, but it’s sometimes a bit hit and miss.”

“No wonder you’re skinny as a rake.”

“Your mum’s a good cook.” He’d ignored the remark and John Paul couldn’t tell if he’d ignored it because he hadn’t heard it or for some other reason.

“If you’re angling to have tea at my house you’re welcome – if you can bear it.”

His eyes actually lit up. “Yeah? Maybe if we’re doing revision or something and it gets late...Course I couldn’t have it there every day...”

John Paul laughed: the look on his face! “As I said, it’s a mad house and they tend to make a show of me *and* my friends, but there are ways round it.”

“Mum wouldn’t mind – if she knew that it was easier – me revising and everything-“

John Paul laughed again. “Is she that bad?”

Craig hesitated as though seriously considering the question. “No, she isn’t, but meal times....Well I’d rather not, if you know what I mean.” He looked at him. “Is it like that at yours – everyone round the table, arguing, talking rubbish?”

John Paul found himself laughing again. “You are joking right? I thought that was the *definition* of a family meal. You mean it isn’t?”

“Tell me about it!” He handed John Paul the plate. “Mate can you get those little cocktail sausage things and maybe a few of those barbecue chicken, what are they, wings...?”

“Oh and shall I fetch sir a basin to throw up in after? Craig, you’re gonna make yourself sick. Slow down.”

“But I’m starving!”

“Look you’ve been drinking – on an empty stomach. Trust me that is not the best recipe for a fun night. How about I see if Hannah’s mum’s got some tinned fruit or something?”

“Tinned fruit? What good’s that gonna do me?”

“Fill you up without making you want to heave?”

“John Paul...” He broke off, rolled his eyes. “Okay, but no prunes, okay. Can’t stand the things.”

John stared at him for a minute. Prunes? “No prunes – check. Hang on, back in a minute.”

Of course he hadn’t factored in the Hannah element when making his calculations...

If he hadn’t known better he’d say she’d been waiting for the opportunity to waylay him the minute he appeared in her peripheral vision. He was barely past the throng of bodies near the door when she was on him. “John Paul, come on, Nancy’s here!”

And? Since when did Nancy’s appearance become a cause for ...celebration? “In a minute, Hannah, I’m fetching Craig-“

“Oh John Paul.” She had that little pout he was sure she thought was the cutest thing in the world. Perhaps it turned her dad to putty, but the truth was it left him cold, irritated the crap out of him on occasion - like *this* one for instance.

“No Hann, I promised I’d-“

“Where is he anyway? Sarah was looking for him...”

“Just over there.”

She didn’t even bother to look where he indicated. “Well he’ll be alright – Sarah will find him in a minute. Come on.”

Well he could struggle and make a right show of both of them or he could go meekly – like a lamb to the fucking slaughter.  
He wondered what would happen when Sarah found Craig. Would she eat all the wrong stuff with him, get him even more drunk than he already was, drag him upstairs...?

 

**

 

Well as strippers went Nancy’s friend wasn’t all that hot. Not that he was any judge, of course. The women seemed to like it, but it all seemed a bit... amateurish... to him. Is this what women went for then - muscle-bound lumps with what little brains they had located somewhere in their trousers? Michaela didn’t count: when it came to class, well not to put too fine a point on it, she had none, so it was hardly any great surprise that she’d be screeching like a fishwife, only just holding herself back from leaping on the guy’s back and riding him. For fuck’s sake – his bloody sisters! Would there ever come a day when they wouldn’t make him want to sink through the floor whenever they were forced to go out in public together?

Hannah though – she pretended to be all bashful, but he’d seen her eyeing the guy’s...package... and she certainly enjoyed the attention. Just as long as she never expected *him* to carry her... God he could see it now - her sidling up to him, dropping all these little hints... She could be so dense sometimes, well either that or just an insensitive, self-centred little cow. Were all girls like that when they wanted something from their boyfriends – single-minded, focused, not taking any hint whatsoever? He’d seen the same thing from Sarah with Craig, only she was much more of a bad-tempered bitch than Hannah and was much more likely to give it loads if she didn’t get her way. That’s why Craig was so much under her thumb – he hated the scenes as much as John Paul did. Sarah didn’t seem to care where she was or who was around when she was ready to let it loose. No wonder Craig never said boo to this particular goose in public...

Oh and speak of the devil...

She was very drunk, her smile big, eyes even from the distance, in this light, as glassy as the most fake, tacky costume jewellery. She stumbled and was caught by strong masculine hands. Giggling, she turned to her rescuer and even from here, over the bloody music he could hear her. He looked around, fully expecting the entire room to be looking at her in disgust, but no, no-one had even noticed her and Rhys, openly flirting, making a show of themselves: Rhys because how many fucking bites of the cherry did you need before realising that that particular ‘cherry’ had been well and truly bitten – and not by you – never again by you. Sarah because she was Craig’s girlfriend and he was *here*, probably about to see her acting like a complete slapper.

Well if no-one else was prepared to put a stop to this, then it looked like it was up to him.

“Oh John Paul – my mate John Paul.” She draped her arm around his neck, nails breaking the skin close to his right jugular. She didn’t even notice his flinch. “We’re great mates, aren’t we? All of us - me and you and you and John Paul - all of us, great mates.”

What the hell was wrong with Rhys – she could barely stand and all he was doing was smiling, humouring her. He knew what that was about – he’d had to rescue his sisters often enough from these predatory males. He knew Rhys was a bastard, but this just wasn’t on. “Come on Sarah, let’s get you outside for some fresh air-“

She pushed away from him, backed into Rhys, giggled. “Don’t think so. What I need is another drink. Rhys, my mate, you’ll get me another drink, won’t you?”

“White wine on the rocks wasn’t it? Come on I’ve got a bottle-” He pulled her with him, ignoring John Paul.

“Bye, bye, mate. See you, my mate...”

He watched them disappear toward the stair, fuming. What the hell – she couldn’t be that drunk could she? She wouldn’t do anything really stupid would she? What the hell would Craig say? He had to try to run interference ... Rhys’ mate – Gilly, the one who’d given Hannah the present he really should have...

Usually he and Rhys were joined at the hip, trust him to disappear the one time John Paul had something to say to him. He pushed his way into the crowded room realising his mistake just a split second too late. She was on him like a predatory goat in heat. “John Paul did you see that stripper? I didn’t know where to put myself! Did you see when he picked me up? Bet you couldn’t pick me up like that-“

Too fucking right! “Hann, have you seen Gilly?”

She stayed looking at him for a little longer, the ‘bashful’ smile still glued to her face. It took a while – like watching a slow motion replay – for her to get that he’d somehow managed to introduce a completely different subject matter. “Gilly? What? What’s he done?”

“Just wanted a word.”

“With Gilly?”

Well he couldn’t blame her for her astonishment: as far as he could recall he and Gilly had barely nodded to each other in passing let alone exchanged any word of note. “Yeah, you seen him?”

“Well I don’t think I’ve seen him since we opened the presents. Isn’t he with Rhys?”

“Well where’s Rhys?”

“He- Oh. He was over there a minute ago.” She was looking around, a strand of hair that had worked its way loose from the elaborate hairdo flying as she turned. He reached over and tucked it in. A mistake, of course. When the hell would he ever bloody learn? “John Paul,” said in a breathless, significant voice as though he’d just given her an engagement ring or something.

“Your hair – it came loose.”

She was still grinning – well it was a grin as far as he was concerned. “I know, it’s a mess.”

He knew this one. “No it looks lovely. You look lovely.”

“Oh John Paul.”

“So you haven’t seen Gilly then?”

“Well they sometimes go to Rhys’ room – to get away from dad.”

Shit. “Okay I’ll bear that in mind. Hannah, you haven’t seen Craig, have you?”

“No, I thought he was with Sarah.”

No, I can guarantee he’s not with Sarah. “Oh it doesn’t matter. I’ll just – see you in a minute Hannah,” and to forestall the pout, “Maybe we can take some drinks upstairs and...talk...for a bit. Later.” Yep cunnilingus definitely on the menu tonight then...

 

“Yeah, that would be...nice.”

 

**

 

Craig wasn’t where he’d left him. Well no: he was upstairs beating the crap out of Rhys!

He heard Craig’s distinctive tones raised in outrage while he was in the yard. The window just above his head he assumed must therefore belong to Rhys’ bedroom. He had no problem hearing the words ‘tart’ and ‘bastard’ and ‘I’ll kill you’ over the sounds of the party and heart pounding he raced inside intent on damage control.

Well the fight hadn’t managed to confine itself to the relative privacy of upstairs and as he pushed his way into the hall he heard the sound of bodies tumbling down the stairs.

Everyone was getting in his way. “Craig!” he shouted, trying to push his way through.

“Gilly!” That was Mr. Ashworth somewhere in front of him. “Rhys, lad, come on. You can’t-“

“Rhys!” Mrs Ashworth, looking pale and shaken. “No, no, move out of the way, give them some room. Josh get the first aid kit. No, Craig, don’t move. I think your arm- Rhys stay still. Nancy, where’s John Paul?”

“I’m here. What is it?” He became pale, felt sick to his stomach as he saw Craig lying awkwardly, half on the stair, his right arm in an awkward position. His face was as white as John Paul had ever seen it. “What do you need me to do?”

“Okay we need to get him to his feet, careful of his arm – it might be broken.”

“It’s not.” This from Craig, who had made a move to change position.

John Paul leaped forward, restrained him. “Hang on, mate. It might not be broken, but let Mrs. Ashworth examine you, eh?”

Craig gave him a look he had absolutely no trouble reading: fuck off. His eyes were bright with anger and mortification and like a wounded animal he seemed likely to take a bite out of anyone who came near – friend or foe. Well too bloody bad.

“Can you – yeah just... Look, Craig you can’t stay here,” said in an urgent undertone, “Best get you out the way, yeah?” He held his friend’s unfriendly gaze until he got a reluctant nod, the tightening at Craig’s jaw making his feelings crystal clear. “Okay, let’s get you sat down. Shall I-?”

“Yeah, bring him through here.” Suzanne Ashworth clearly thrived on being the one in charge. Her horror at the ‘incident’ had been subsumed in her desire to get things sorted, her professional training automatically taking over. “Nev, you and Gilly and some of the others get everyone out the front lounge. No we need the space. Come on – Craig’s in a lot of pain.” She looked at her oldest son, lips pursed. “So’s Rhys. You’d better come in too.”

“I’m alright-“

“Rhys, I’m taking a look at you. If there’s nothing wrong – fine, you can carry on - but I’m taking a look. Right. Hannah, sorry about this, love. Can you keep things going. Nancy? Thanks girls – just make sure everybody has a good time. I’ll be back out as soon as I can.”

She turned to John Paul. “Yeah, let him lean on you. Craig can you walk?”

“I’m fine, nothing’s broken – I’m really fine.” His voice was weak and John Paul could feel little tremors all the way through his body, so no he really wasn’t fine.

“Lean on me, mate. Let me take your weight. Okay?” A nod and a suppressed hiss as soon as they moved. “It’s okay, I got you. Let’s just take it slowly...”

“Craig, are you-?”

He couldn’t bloody believe it! She had the barefaced gall to show her face, here, enquiring after Craig, acting like she hadn’t been the one who-

“Fuck off! We’re finished!” He’d turned awkwardly at the sound of her voice and winced now as his arm paid for the sudden movement.

“Easy, mate, easy.” John Paul tightened his embrace.

“Craig it’s not what you think. Rhys tell him.”

“Sarah, love, I really don’t think this is the time or the place. Let things calm down a bit. People are hurt, tempers are high, best not, love.” She was using the soothing nurse voice now and it seemed to have an affect – Sarah nodded, tears streaming down her face, eyes fixed on Craig, the ‘incident’ appearing to have sobered her a little, probably because even through her alcohol-induced state of idiocy she could see how close she was to losing him. “Come on, John Paul...just hang on a minute...Neville, get them out of there – we need-“

“I’m doing it love, but there’s not a whole hell of a lot of other places-“

“Look it’ll only be for a minute or two.” John Paul wasn’t looking at her, but he was pretty certain that there was some sort of couples non-verbal communication going on – the sort of stuff all women seemed to have the innate ability to not only understand but effortlessly utilise. “We’ll be out in a minute. Gilly will help.”

Neville Ashworth sighed, like a man severely put upon, but from what he’d seen of Suzanne Ashworth she was in the minor leagues when it came to manipulation.

He waited, Craig still leaning heavily on him, still trembling, still very upset, but quiet, holding it all in. He didn’t think that was a good sign at all – Craig was a past master at brooding, then blowing spectacularly. He’d be best getting it out before another explosion happened.

“Okay John Paul, in here. Lay him on the sofa. No, Craig, I need to examine you and the best way – thank you. John Paul could you switch on the overhead light, please?”

He did as he was told then hovered by the door, not knowing where to place himself – he’d done his bit really. He wasn’t family or anything else, didn’t have the right to-

The door opened and Hannah poked her head round. “Is he alright?”

It took him a moment to understand that the question had been addressed to him. “Not sure. He’s hurt his arm, but we don’t know if it’s broken. Your mum’s having a look.”

Hannah stared over at Craig for a moment then her gaze lighted on Rhys who was standing against the wall, sulking. “Sarah’s in a right state. What happened? Do you know?”

Well yes he had a pretty good idea, but it wasn’t his place... “Not sure. I heard Craig tell her they were finished.”

“I know – it’s terrible isn’t it? I’d just like to know what happened.” Her gaze was fixed on her brother as she said this, clearly having a fairly good idea of what must have gone on. “Maybe when they’ve had a chance to talk...”

Yeah, very likely. He was pretty sure Craig and Sarah were far from finished. “Sorry about this, Hannah. Not really fair-“

“Oh don’t worry. I’m still having a great time. And you know it would be nice to keep the party going... How about us having a dance – show people everything’s fine?”

Yeah, that made sense and she had just had her party ruined. Yeah he could do that. But Craig... “I’ll just... Craig, mate, me and Hannah are just going to have a bit of a dance, you know, keep the party going-“

“Oh that’s a great idea, John Paul. Yes you go on, we’re fine here. Craig’s a bit knocked about, but no real harm done – nothing broken. Probably best going home though. I’ll get someone to give him a lift.”

This was a really good idea, really good of her to offer – he just couldn’t help worrying. “Well let me know when you’ve got that sorted and I’ll go with him. Make sure he’s okay, might need to explain to his mum...” Yep, worked every time, the ‘M’ word...

“That’s really thoughtful, John Paul. Tell you what I’ll do – I’ll leave Craig here for a half hour or so, make sure he isn’t still woozy, then get Neville to drop you both over to The Dog. I could ask him to wait, give you a lift when you’re-“

“No, I’ll be okay, might stay with him for a while, make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay then. Well go on with you then.” Her smile included her daughter. “Go enjoy yourselves.”

“Come on, John Paul.” He allowed himself to be grabbed, pulled, dragged out into the very crowded, very noisy hallway. He barely had time to glance at Craig, certainly wasn’t able to say ‘see you later, mate’ the way he felt he should. He was worried about him, but hovering wasn’t going to do Craig’s temper any good at all: he knew that from experience. And he was in good hands – Suzanne Ashworth would ensure he didn’t doing anything stupid. But Rhys was in the same room as Craig and there was no telling what he’d do to provoke him...

“Come on! This is my favourite.” Hannah had pulled him into the lounge and was doing a fair imitation of a limpet as she clung to him, moving to the music – some awful girl pop sensation group – that made him shudder when he thought on it too long. And he was worried about Craig...

“I’m not very good at this, Hann-“

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re doing just fine.”

Well if jigging like a frog on crack was doing fine then yeah he was doing fine.  
He danced with Hannah, careful to smile and show the appropriate expressions when called upon so to do, but his mind was on Craig.

 

**

 

It kicked off again as they were leaving.

Sarah, who, according to Hannah was ‘sleeping it off’ in Hannah’s room chose exactly the wrong moment to stumble downstairs.

When she saw Craig, saw that he was leaving, she rushed him, crying out. “Craig, Craig, I’m sorry.” She tried – the silly, selfish cow – to grab hold of his arm – his bad arm.

John Paul instinctively put an arm out to stop her and knocked her hand away a little harder than he meant. He could see he’d hurt her, but her drunken state made her reactions slow and she stood for a moment, blank, knowing something was wrong, but not yet recognising that what she was feeling was pain. “Sarah, he’s hurt – his arm, his head. We’re taking him home. Anything you need to say to him can wait. Okay?” He was angry with her, really angry, but she was a mate and he hated that she was upset too. “Just sleep on it, okay – both of you. Talk it through when you’ve both had time to calm down.” He saw that he’d got through to her and though her eyes were searching for Craig’s, probably ready to do more pleading should she be gifted with his attention she stood her ground and let them leave without a scene.

Craig was quiet throughout the short drive and after a minute John Paul left him to it, busy with his own thoughts.  
Suzanne had phoned ahead and there was a ‘welcoming’ party by the time they reached the Dog. “What’s happened? Craig!”

Predictably Frankie Osbourne treated Craig like a 5-year-old who’d just fallen off his bike, fussing over him, almost in tears when she saw how white he was. Predictably she blamed everyone else for his condition...

 

**

 

“You sure? I can stay for a bit longer.” They’d finally managed to escape to Craig’s room. Frankie had told John Paul that his services were no longer required, still blaming him and Neville Ashworth for her son’s injuries, but Craig had persuaded her to let him stay.

“No, I’m okay.” He’d stripped to his boxers and had given John Paul a really unfriendly look when he’d gasped involuntarily after clocking the bruises covering the left side of his body. “Just need to sleep.”

“Good thing it’s the weekend.”

“Yeah. Could you ask Jack to fetch me a glass of water?” So did that mean that he intended to talk to Jack about it – and not him – or was it just that he didn’t want it to be his mum, knowing the fuss she’d make?

“No problem. I’ll call you, yeah?”

Craig shrugged. “Not for a while, okay? Turning my phone off for a few days.”

Oh. “No problem. Catch you in a few.”  
“Yeah. And thanks, mate. For all this, you know...”

“No problem. See you.”

 

**

He dreamed about Craig that night, dreamed that they’d been the ones fighting: rolling on the floor, over and over, bodies tangled together, not hurting each other, just entwined and straining - chest to chest, crotch to crotch. He woke up with a start, hard on practically humming it was vibrating so much. He took hold of it and worked his way to climax, biting his lip, closing his eyes and mind against the persistence of the images in his head...

He went back to sleep after cleaning up and didn’t recall any of the dreams that followed...

 

**

 

Well he’d managed to get out of oral sex the previous day but it was unlikely that he’d be able to dodge the bullet forever.

He went down on her in her room while her parents were out shopping, glad that she at least had the sense to remember that her brothers were still around and to control the screams this time.

Yeah Craig was right – girls did seem to like that more than fucking. Pity because he sure as hell wasn’t doing that every bloody time they had sex.  
They listened to records and talked – not about Sarah and Craig, a subject matter he’d determinedly vetoed – but when her parents returned he made his excuse and escaped.

He really needed to touch base with Craig.

He’d said he’d switched off his phone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t up for visitors...

**

Jack seemed pleased to see him and ushered him upstairs. “His Majesty’s in the lounge acting the invalid. Go see if you can make everyone’s life easier and cheer him up, John Paul.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he laughed, making his way into the private area behind the bar.

His Majesty was looking sulky and miserable on the sofa, a violently patterned throw covering his lower half. He smiled when he saw John Paul. “What are you doing here?” He automatically shifted his legs to make space for him to sit.

John Paul hesitated – he didn’t want to put him out – then sat gingerly at the edge of the sofa. “Thought I’d check that you’d made it through the night and to nick your General Studies notes if you’d snuffed it.”

Craig kicked him. “Joker! Nah I’m fine. Better. Had a good night’s kip, feeling much more like the old self today.”

And looking at him John Paul could certainly attest to the fact that he looked more like his old self too – the pallor of last night replaced by his usual healthy glow. So Sarah wasn’t on his mind? “Spent the morning with Hannah.”

Craig grinned. “Don’t tell me – you had to give her her real birthday present, right?”

John Paul suppressed the shudder – not fair to Hannah. “Her bloody brothers were in the house, practically next door!”

“Oh you can’t have been doing it right then, mate, otherwise they’d have been in there wondering why you were murdering their sis.”

“I told her to keep the screams to a minimum,” he protested.

“Yeah, sure. When I do it to Sarah she can’t help herself.” He stopped abruptly, catching what he’d said. His mouth tightened.

Well that was a danger signal if ever he saw one, but he was a McQueen – danger signals were like red rags to a bull. “You spoken to her at all?”

“It’s over.”

“I know you’re angry, Craig, but don’t you think-?”

“He was eating her out.”

“Sorry?”

“On his bed, knickers off, wide open, with his tongue inside her.”

John Paul said nothing. What was there to say?

“How the fuck am I supposed to forgive that? She wasn’t protesting, she was fucking loving it.”

Well yeah. “Craig, I’m sorry, mate, really sorry.”

“Yeah? I’m not. I’m well rid of her - fucking tart.”

Well he said that now... “Yeah. Have you told her?”

“What do you think? I told her there and then.”

Well things said in the heat of the moment... as he recalled Craig had finished with her several times before. “So it’s over between you then?”

Craig didn’t say anything for a long time, forcing John Paul after a full 30 seconds of silence to look at him. He was staring at him – a weirdly intent expression on his face. “Even if I get back together with her – and I admit I might – it’s over, do you understand me?”

 

Well no, not really. “Not sure.”

“I know you’re not that experienced with girls...shut up you know what I mean. But there are certain things you do...in a relationship...things you don’t talk about but you both understand.”

Oh clear as mud so far. “Go on.”

“So we both like to be...seen...I like to be seen with her – fit gorgeous bird - and she likes to be seen with me.” He shrugged as though reluctant to single out the reasons why Sarah might see him as a catch. “So that works for us and it’s sort of at that level for me. I don’t love her, but I’m not going to pretend that seeing her with Rhys Ashworth didn’t hurt. So it depends...”

“Depends? On what?” He was still floundering a little here.

“How much she begs.”

Oh. Now it was his turn to be silent, really not knowing what to say or think.

“She knows she’s in the wrong so she’ll be grovelling – a lot. I know she’ll want to get back with me, so I hold all the cards. I’ll probably give her a fairly hard time, but we might get back together.”

“But you don’t love her.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” His jaw was tightening again and he seemed annoyed – John Paul wasn’t clear whether or not he was the cause. “It’s not always about that, you know. They use you – girls - for sex, to show off to their mates...not as bloody romantic as you seem to think.”

Er... “Hannah’s not like that.”

“Hannah’s not Sarah. And anyway give her a chance, mate – you’ll see.”

No, he doubted that even being around Sarah for a good length of time could change Hannah’s inherently sweet nature. “So you think you and Sarah will get back together.”

“Depends, like I said.” He seemed restless, ready to change the subject.

John Paul wasn’t ready to. “So you think she’ll be alright with you using her for sex?”

Craig gave him an unfriendly look. “Don’t be a knob.”

“But that’s what you’re doing.”

“Yeah? And what exactly are you doing with Hannah?”

“Having a relationship, showing her a bit of respect.”

Craig gave a derisive laugh. “Yeah, right. You’re in it for the sex, same as me.”

John Paul stared at him for a minute, stumped on how to respond. No, he wasn’t using her for sex, definitely not, but he didn’t love her any more than Craig loved Sarah, so what *was* he in it for? For answer he sighed and shoved at Craig’s right foot. “You’re poking me.”

“Sorry.” He adjusted his position, wincing when he was careless with his right arm. “It’s alright – still a bit sore, that’s all.”

“Not surprised – Hannah says you fell all the way down.”

“He broke my fall – bastard!”

Well John Paul didn’t particularly want to be subject to a diatribe about Rhys Ashworth, but Craig probably needed to talk it out – get it out of his system. Better in than out – or so his mum had always claimed. “Well, he broke your fall so can’t be all bad.” He thought for a minute that Craig wouldn’t be able to find his sense of humour, but no, there it was – that grin he loved so much.

“Yeah, except he got off with hardly a scratch, the wanker.”

“Well I think his pride and reputation took a tumble too. Everyone’s on your side, Craig.”

Craig gave a satisfied grunt. “Slapper!”

“Well to be fair she’d had a bit to drink.”

“Well so did I – didn’t see me in a corner somewhere with my dick in someone’s mouth!”  
John Paul felt the blush start and jumped up quickly, offering to make a beverage of Craig’s choice. Happily, Craig was ready for a drink and cheekily asked for a round of sandwiches too, and the moment passed...

 

**

Craig was at school on Monday. He was still moving gingerly and his arm was obviously still quite sore, but he seemed determined to face people, probably didn’t want it to seem like he was avoiding anyone just because he’d been publicly humiliated.

He needn’t have worried: Sarah was the pariah and all sympathy lay with Craig. Well Sonny bloody Valentine tried to stir, but no-one took his side and after a while he shut up and went in pursuit of some other soft target.

He was okay with Hannah, apologising to her for causing a scene and when she blamed Rhys he said yeah, but that still didn’t excuse him for his part in the ruckus.

Sarah wasn’t in school.

They saw her in the square when they went there lunchtime, sitting on the bench, obviously dressed for a day at school, but probably too upset to face it. She saw them and made a move to get up, Craig in her sights, but then thought better of it and sat down again. After a moment Hannah went to her. Craig went into the shop. John Paul followed him.

Well it went on like that for the first few days of the week – Craig regarding Sarah like a phantom he could see just on the periphery of his vision, but not corporeal enough to acknowledge. John Paul and Hannah were both fed up with this state of affairs but acknowledged that there was nothing they could do to change it. Both agreed that it would change in time...

Well it did change.

Wednesday he came into the Common Room and they were all over each other like always, Sarah all smiles, Craig grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery.

He and Hannah exchanged a look then Hannah squeezed his arm in unfeigned delight and walked over to them.

Sarah had her head on Craig’s shoulder, clinging to him as if he was a lifeline.

“Oh it’s about time you two.” She sat beside Craig. “Had me really worried there for a minute.”

“We talked it out, Hannah, and Craig knows that nothing like that will ever happen again.” It was funny how little time it took for her to get back to her usual over-confident ways. Anyone would think she hadn’t had another guy’s face between her legs, less than a week before – practically in public if Craig’s reportage was to be believed – that she hadn’t been the cause of her boyfriend’s public humiliation and near serious injury. Well she had some face; he’d give her that.

“Good,” he said, slinging his bag on the floor.

He could tell by the way she looked at him that she had taken that in exactly the way he’d meant it.

Craig was staring at him and when he met the stare was startled when it turned into a brief wink, so quick and careless it might have been missed – certainly had been by the girls. “Well I gave her a good talking to, didn’t I?” A kiss, that Sarah clearly wanted to continue, and then a sigh. “But it’s the library for me.” He got to his feet. “Coming mate?”

He could see Hannah trying to stare him down, willing him to say, what, No thanks I’d rather sit here with the girls and be bored to bloody tears? “Catch you later.” Yeah and a kiss might be called for at this juncture. She too wanted to turn it into something else. What was it with girls and kissing? Not something he found either particularly scintillating or particularly pleasant...

 

**

They didn’t go to the library. They went to the bike shed and talked for the full hour - until the bell sounded for lunch.

Sarah had come to see him the night before and had grovelled enough to make him give in. It was clear to John Paul as he listened to Craig recounting the conversation, in a way it hadn’t been before, not quite, that Craig really didn’t love her and that he’d certainly meant it about using her. Well he didn’t approve, not at all, and he told him so.

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right – I don’t. I don’t see how you can be in a relationship with someone on that basis.”

“You’re so fucking naive. What do you think most relationships are?”

“No way. I know you think you’re all man of the world and everything and I’ll give you that, you do have a bit more experience than me, but I know that relationships aren’t like that.”  
“Have a few first, mate, before you come all high and mighty with me. It’s not like in a Shakespeare play, not fucking Romeo and Juliet-“

“I’m not thick, I know-“

“Not like fucking poems. It’s all bargains and knowing the rules and getting the upper hand.”

He sighed, knowing there was no point – Craig wouldn’t listen to him anyway – he had no real experience to back up his argument and as far as Craig was concerned therefore had no argument. He decided to let it go, but Craig wasn’t ready to yet.

“Me and Sarah – it’s not love, man, it’s fun, sex...like I told you it’s having the fittest girl in the school on your arm, but she’s not the type I’d marry.”

John Paul absorbed this. “So you never saw this going anywhere?”

“Well I’m going to Dublin in September.”

John Paul kept looking at him, expecting more. “And? You were planning to dump her?”

A shrug. “Yeah.”

“But what if you’d fallen in love with her by then?”

Craig shrugged again. “Hardly, she’s not the type you fall in love with.”

“Type.” He hated this sort of talk from blokes – making women ‘types’ like they weren’t people, individuals, just ‘types’ to be put into convenient little boxes – marry or fuck.

“Yeah you know. Hannah’s the type you’d marry, Sarah’s the type you fuck, have a laugh with.”

“Oh and she knows this, does she?”

“Fuck off, man. What’s with you?” He examined John Paul’s expression for a moment then his attitude softened. “Look I’ve got sisters too, man, and I’d hate any bloke to talk about my sister like that, but...Look shall we just drop it?”

“No let’s not. Craig I think you’re being really unfair to Sarah. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see that she’s really into you.”

“That’s why she got off with Rhys Ashworth is it?”

“She was drunk! Tell me you’ve never done anything you regretted after you’d had too much to drink.”

“John Paul there are certain things that aren’t forgiveable; getting head from another bloke in the middle of a party where anyone could have walked in is a biggie...and me downstairs like a fucking mug. No that’s well out of order.”

“So finish with her then!” He knew he was practically shouting, but Craig was really winding him up.

Craig was examining his face again, searching for God knows what. “You don’t get it – I’m in charge and that’s the way I like it.”

“You’re right I don’t. If you’re not in love-“

“Will you fucking stop banging on about love! Are you in love with Hannah?”

He glared at Craig, but couldn’t get the obvious answer leave his lips. He wasn’t in love with her; he pretty much knew that – didn’t have to be that experienced to recognise when you were and weren’t in love.

“See?” Craig didn’t sound triumphant, just quiet and resigned. “It’s not that simple is it? We’re all in it for different things. Girls – some girls – tend to think it has to be about love or it’s...wrong, tacky or something, but I don’t think love comes along that often. You can think you’re in love, but most of the time it’s not, not the real thing.” He looked at him. “Especially when you’re our age.”

“So you don’t think you can fall in love when you’re 17, you think that it can’t be the real thing?”

“I’m not saying that, no. I’m just saying that I think, I think maybe it’s best to have fun now and save the serious stuff for later – when you can handle it better.”

“Craig, you can’t...legislate... for stuff like that. Sometimes you just fall and there’s nothing you can do – whether you’re 17 or 71.”

“Ewwww – wrinkly love.”

“That’s politically incorrect; wrinklies have as much right to-“ He broke off as an image of his Nanna came into his head. “On second thoughts forget I said anything.”

Craig laughed and punched him on the arm. “Fancy buying me a sandwich?”

“Oh I bought you one yesterday.”

“And I’ll buy you one tomorrow. By the way Mum’s going to hire some tuxes for the Dance Off. You might want to get over to mine and get yourself fitted. Well I say fitted but Mum can measure a man’s inside leg from 50 paces.”

He wanted to say that he was pretty sure his Mercedes could too but didn’t think that would go down too well. “Okay, I hadn’t really thought about it to be honest.”

“S’why you need me, mate.” He patted him on the head. “Lose this if it wasn’t screwed on.” He slid his hand down, and partnered with his left began to turn John Paul’s head first one way then the other. “Come to think of it – you sure it is screwed on? Feels a bit...loose.”

“Get lost.” John Paul feinted a punch at him, which he easily avoided. “Buy me a coffee and we’ll call it evens.”

“Do you know how much he bloody charges for a latte?”

“No idea, but since I’m not paying for it...”

Now it was his turn to side-step the mock punch

 

**

Craig ran off as soon as he got the call, just barely managing a “Charlie’s been kidnapped!” over his shoulder before he was gone, his jacket still on the chair where he’d slung it earlier.

They looked at each other, stunned into immobility. “I’d better go-” Sarah made to grab her bag.

“Probably best to give him a few, Sarah,” he warned. “Let him get in touch. You know what he’s like, probably be too busy taking charge and looking after his mum. Call him later, yeah?”  
She knew he was right but a part of her seemed to be fighting her good sense, the part, most probably, that said: stand by your man, even when he thinks he can do without you.

Luckily Hannah backed him up. “John Paul’s probably right, Sarah. He’s only just got the news – no idea what’s going on. Probably is best to give him a bit of space. You’ll be the first one he phones when he’s settled down a bit. Now come on we’ve still got these posters to put up!”

 

**

 

Craig asked him over later that afternoon.

They didn’t talk about much; Craig just seemed to need a friend, someone to keep him company while he came down from the adrenaline rush caused by the crisis.

While they were talking Craig’s mobile rang. Craig made a face, mouthed ‘Sarah’ and walked into the kitchen.

John Paul tried not to listen to Craig’s end of the conversation, which was short and fairly uninformative, well not quite so uninformative as all that, really: Craig lied through his teeth, without pause or blush, claiming that he’d been about to call her etc etc.

John Paul raised an eyebrow. He absolutely fucking hated this and imagined that it would only get worse since Craig seemed intent on carrying on with Sarah. Soon he’d be unable to even look her in the face. And Craig didn’t even seem to really get it- that Sarah was a mate and knowing she was being played, used, made him feel like a prick for being a party to it, even if his involvement was peripheral at best. But when all was said and done it wasn’t his business – Craig and Sarah were the couple, Craig his best mate, the one to whom he owed his loyalty – in the end there really wasn’t anything more to say.

He wasn’t going to fall out with Craig over this – no way.

He’d find a way to deal.

He always found a way to deal when it came to Craig...

 

**

 

Frankie sized him by eye and assured him that the tux would fit no problem. She was different with him - kinder and friendlier than normal. Clearly the news about her grandson had elevated her mood to an unusually high level and she bestowed her largesse on him, treating him like a favoured nephew rather than the scratter offspring she generally seemed to regard him as.

“Stay for tea, John Paul.”

“Oh I don’t-“

“Don’t be stupid. He’ll stay, mum.”

And that was that – his first meal round the Dean table.

 

**

 

Hannah came round to see him that evening. It was late – past nine - and he wondered what crisis could have brought her to his door.

A few minutes later, in his bedroom, when she practically tripped him and fell on him, tongue first, he wondered no more.

He really wasn’t in the mood and wondered what had got into her, but he endured the snogging, drew the line at the hand sneaking into his jeans. He wasn’t aroused and had no intention of being ‘coaxed’ into it either. She’d tried to go down on him several times before but the thought sickened him and he’d always stopped her. He could sense she felt guilty (worried too probably, thinking that if she kept not returning the favour (though she was more than willing to) he’d stop ‘doing her favours’ too) and a little put out too: boys loved this, why wouldn’t he let her?

God he so wasn’t in the mood for this.

He’d really been looking forward to spending a few hours by himself...

“Hannah you know what they’re like. Look, there’s no lock on the door, you know that, and they never knock. I’d hate any of them, especially Michaela, to see you...you know. You know what she’s like.”

Well that did the trick as he knew it would: being the subject of gossip via Michaela’s gob was no picnic, the entire flippin’ village knew that. But she still wouldn’t bloody leave, talking about school, Sarah and Craig, the kidnapping.

He felt he did a decent job hiding his exasperation, keeping up his end of the conversation, but breathed a huge sigh of relief when her mum phoned, demanding her presence.

He got away with walking her home too since Suzanne had taken it upon herself to come fetch her and was probably impatiently awaiting her, engine running...

 

He forestalled the kiss by accompanying her downstairs and saying goodbye right at the door. And oh yeah, there they were - both Ashworth parents watching eagle-eyed. He gave her a sheepish ‘what can you do?’ smile and squeezed her arm, then feeling rotten, assuaged his guilt a little with a quick peck on the cheek.

He watched them drive away, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

So what exactly was he doing still going out with Hannah?

Was it just habit, cowardice (he dreaded the thought of breaking up with her again)? But if he wasn’t going out with her it would make things awkward between the four. No, things were best left as is.

Better all round.

 

**

 

Well Sarah was all over Craig the rest of the week, but he found that it didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Craig gave a good show of being into it, but there was a subtle difference John Paul could now clearly detect.

After some moments of introspection he realised that the difference wasn’t in Craig, but in himself, because Craig wasn’t actually being any different than he’d always been around her, less under her thumb for sure, but she was still on best behaviour and still reining it in a bit – for now - so that didn’t really count. No, the difference was that it didn’t hurt the way it used to: his heart alive with envy, belly sour and heavy with resentment. Now he understood that Craig’s feelings were casual, that he didn’t see Sarah as part of his long-term future plans the hurt and resentment simply dissolved.

After a few days of seeing her all over him the resentment and outrage on her behalf also dissolved.

 

**

 

They’d been ‘persuaded’ by Craig’s mum to try on the tuxes and parade for her.

Craig was one of the least body shy people he’d ever met and while he was trying his best to change in a figurative corner with the curtains firmly closed, Craig unselfconsciously stripped to his boxers, all the while complaining about his mum and apologising – again.

“You don’t mind, do you mate?”

John Paul, trying to keep his eyes to himself and the blushing at bay gave a dismissive smile. “Grow up in my house and your mum-” He laughed. “Pussycat, mate, pussycat.”

“Tell me about it.” He was staring at the tux, casually adjusting himself. “Steph, God the problems I used to have with her coming into my bedroom without knocking. Know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean.” He’d managed to strip to his own boxers, but could feel the hard on starting and turned quickly away.

“Waste of bloody time all this.”

“The Dance off?” Trousers or shirt? What would most effectively hide the erection?

“Yeah – pansy stuff.”

“What, dancing?”

“Well that sort of dancing, yeah.”

“Well we should be able to get away with just a couple of dances.” Having his back to Craig really helped; he could feel the arousal slowly seeping away. He started buttoning the shirt.

“Yeah; step on their feet a few times and they’ll soon change their minds.”

“Genius.”

“Come on, you haven’t even got your keks on yet.”

“Give me a chance, this bloody button. No, it’s okay I got-“

“Give it here.” He smelled of hair gel and aftershave and slightly of dry-cleaning fluid from the tux. He had a slight nick on the corner of the left side of his jaw where he’d been careless shaving. John Paul took a deep breath and allowed the attention, the sleeves taken care of – expertly. “She wanted us to wear cufflinks.” He rolled his eyes. “What are we, 50? Now come on, get the keks on – and the jacket – and let’s go.”

“Okay, okay.” He grabbed the trousers and stepped into them, ignoring the way his semi-hard prick -–the arousal had come back – with teeth – got in the way, relieved to see Craig heading out the door...

 

**

The Dance Off had been a pain, Sarah all over Craig, Hannah all over him.

They’d rowed spectacularly – all of them – boys against girls and the night had ended in disaster, neither couple speaking to the other half.

He’d stayed over and slept on Craig’s floor, both of them agreeing that they’d have to seriously consider breaking up with their respective partners, fed up of the grind of keeping them sweet, making time to be with them.

They went to sleep with no firm decision made one way or the other.

 

 

PART TWO:

 

MARCH:

Hannah was the one who told him about Amy’s baby. But she said that she’d been told in confidence by a tearful Sarah, that Craig didn’t even know.

He was shocked but more by the thought that she was keeping it from Craig – her boyfriend. He couldn’t know and Craig not.

He told him later that same day.

Craig’s reaction surprised him. He listened, took it in then shrugged. “Poor cow.” John Paul couldn’t tell whether that was for Amy or Sarah who’d had to deliver the kid. He didn’t seem to care that he hadn’t been confided in.  
But John Paul felt a lot better for telling him.

 

**

“Oh what, how many that time?”

“It’s alright, we’re still on the practice bit.”

“Well, good.” Craig was peering at the screen. “I swear they’ve got some of these answers wrong.”

John Paul laughed. “Yeah, right. Come on, we’ve only got one more module to take and then we’re done. I’ve been on to Liverpool and they can fit us in over 5 weeks – 4 hours every Friday.”

“That’s gonna be a bit...” He was lost in thought. “What if I persuade Jack to let me borrow the car every week?”

“Oh good luck with that one, mate.”

“Well we’ll need transport. No, I’ll talk to him. He’s alright, Jack.”

Yeah he was, didn’t mean he’d be okay with Craig, an inexperienced driver, driving to Liverpool every week – in his car. Still, Craig was right – the course hours were 5- 9 and without transport they’d be travelling all night. He couldn’t see his mum okaying that.

The solution was one that he hadn’t expected. No, Jack wouldn’t let Craig drive, but he’d let Jake. So long as they got Jake to say yes and commit to it each week he was okay, he said, with them borrowing the car each Friday.

 

Well Jake gave Craig a hard time – he was a big brother, that was his job, apparently – but said yes, just don’t expect him to wait around for them and be there when he came to pick them up!

So that was that taken care of. Now all he had to do was let his mum know – that he was driving to Liverpool every Friday and oh yeah going to America for 4 weeks in July...

 

**

“Over my dead body! That’s the middle of your exams.” His mum had been folding clothes and stood now, a sliver of garment that could have belonged only to Mercedes being strangled between her hands.

“It’s not the middle of my exams – last one’s on the 29th. We’re trying to get a flight on the Saturday.”

She said nothing, but her stance and pursed lips made him know that she wasn’t happy.

Well he was going whether she was happy about it or not. He had his own income, was planning to go away to college soon enough – about time, really, she got used to him not being around. None of the others had left home. He planned to be the first.

“It’s only for a month, mum-“

She gaped at him. “A month? I thought it were only for a week, two at most.”

“Well it’s not a holiday per se – it’s work, really. We’ll be paid and everything. Good experience for us.”  
She was unimpressed. “And was this Craig’s idea? I can see his mum not caring if he goes halfway across the world for god knows how long. No, Frankie Osbourne wouldn’t care, but I’m not like her – I care about my kids.” The garment had been thrown, unfolded, back into the basket; another one picked up, roughly folded, placed on the table.

He rolled his eyes, undecided whether to forestall the tirade or let her get it out of her system now rather than at a later date. “It was my idea, mum. I asked Craig along.”

She said nothing, but he could tell that she was seriously irked.

He made no effort to placate her: how could she begrudge a holiday for god’s sake?

“And he’s off to college, where was it again, Dundee?”

“Dublin, mum.”

She carried on folding, but he could clearly see the thoughts behind her silence: well at least he’ll be out of the way and won’t lead my boy into all sorts of mischief. He didn’t think she actively disliked Craig himself, but she certainly didn’t think much to his mum and had tarred Craig with the same brush – to a certain extent. And he really didn’t think Craig trying to charm her would be anything but counterproductive. She’d like you if she wanted to – nothing you could do about it one way or other.

“Of course it depends on his results, but I’m sure they’ll be good enough. He’s probably the cleverest person I know.” Well that went over like a lead balloon if the reappearance of the pursed lips and vigorous folding was anything to go by.

“Yeah? He doesn’t look it.”

He let that one go. “It’d be good for both of us to earn some money before college. They pay quite well and we get board and lodgings.” How could she find any fault, any fault at all with this?

The folding ceased and she gave him a hard look. “Where did you hear about this?”

“What?”

“This...camp...where did you hear about it?”

Uh? Did it matter? “There was a poster up in the Common Room. Saw it last year-“

She was giving him her full attention now. “Give me the number.”

“What?”

“You must have a number – a contact number. I want to speak to the people in charge.”

“Why? I haven’t even spoken to them. They’re in America, mum: cost a fortune-“

“So you’re swanning off to the other side of the world and you don’t even know who’s behind it? No.” She wiped her hand on her jeans. “Get me that number, I’m going to phone them.”

He sat staring at her. “What? Why?”

“Just get us that number, John Paul.”

He felt the anger descend without warning. “No. You are not fu- messing this up for me, mum. I’ve checked them out – they’re a legit outfit-“

“But you can’t know that. Look, son.” She sat beside him, put a placating hand on his knee. “There are people in this world who take advantage of young boys. They’re very clever, make up all sorts of wonderful sounding stories. And everything’s really plausible, you’d think it was all legit. But once you get there-“

He sighed, rolled his eyes. What was she on about for fuck’s sake! “It is not a front for white slave traders; me and Craig aren’t going to be sold to saddos in Thailand who like to- be with young boys. Craig’s 18 for god’s sake – who’d want him? No, look, I know what you’re saying but this company is absolutely straight up. They’ve got an office in London, been doing this for years. They’re affiliated with the FA for god’s sake, mum. Absolutely legit, I promise you.”

“You sure?”

“110% sure. I’m no fool.” He squeezed her arm. “You taught me well – checked everything out straight off. They are kosher. We get paid $500 a week – that’s about £250 and we don’t pay for accommodation, just a few minor expenses. I think it’s a sort of exchange programme in a way. I think they’ve had guys over, teaching kids over here baseball and American touch football or something.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes seemed to be glazing over and it was no surprise when she rose a second later and hurried back to her chores. She hated football; had tried to take an interest in it for his sake, but it hadn’t lasted. You ever wanted to get her out of your room or out of your business just talk football... “Okay, son, just keep me up to speed okay?”

He kept the smile strictly to himself. “Will do.”

 

**

 

“Yeah? But it’s sorted now, right?”

“Sorted. How about you and your mum? Any trouble?”

“Nah, she was really pleased, started banging on about how she’d have loved to have gone to the States at my age. You know – the usual.”

“I think my mum was too busy having kids at that point.”

“Can you imagine that – kids at our age!”

Yeah he could, unfortunately. There was a silence on the line as their thoughts inevitably went to Amy Barnes. Okay the family, including Sarah were pretending that the baby was a sister to Amy and Sarah – a late, unexpected addition to the small Barnes family – but the fact was Amy, 15 year old Amy, had had a baby – game over.

He’d often thanked god that he’d been born with a dick and not a womb – for more reasons than one if he were brutally honest.

“So April then – Anfield here we come!”

“Unbelievable. Man, you are star!”

“I do my best.”

“It’s gonna be wild.”

“Mega.”

“And we’re to meet with these guys from the camp end of April?”  
“Yeah once we’ve got the certificates – they need to see proof we’re qualified. And then we make final arrangements.”

“Man I cannot fucking wait. America here we come!”

He whooped and John Paul laughed, happier than he’d been in ages. Christmas had been such a low point; now, 3 months later he didn’t think he could get any higher...

 

**

 

It was Craig.

They’d taken to talking during the night, most nights – stuff about school, Hannah and Sarah, football. He hadn’t thought he could feel any closer to Craig, but the regularity – and yes, intimacy – of these late night conversations proved him wrong.

“Sorry I didn’t phone earlier, man.”

“It’s alright.” He’d been telling himself that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t mean anything that he hadn’t called. Now he admitted in the privacy of his own heart and mind that he was a liar – a dirty, rotten, stinking liar.

Craig’s voice on the other end of the line felt as momentous as a declaration of love.

He urged himself – without success - to calm the fuck down.

“Sarah was here.”

John Paul felt his stomach clench. No, he didn’t love her: he was still sleeping with her though. “Yeah? She okay?”

“Yeah, you know. Been a while.”

John Paul tried and failed to think of something to say.

“You have to keep them sweet. We haven’t been seeing as much of each other, lately.” He seemed almost to be apologising.

“Same with me and Hannah. Hard to find the privacy, know what I mean?”

“Well mum doesn’t mind Sarah being in my room, but I kinda do, if you know what I mean.”

Well yeah he certainly did – any sort of sex while any of his sisters were in the house – no way! His mum? Didn’t even bear thinking about. “Bummer.”

“Well we did a few things, but I couldn’t really rise to the occasion knowing she was in the other room.”

Oh that couldn’t have gone down well with Sarah. “So I suppose it’ll have to be her place in future then.”

“You are joking! Have you met her mum?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“She makes Attila the Hun look like Mary Poppins.”

“Oh, that bad eh?”

“Worse. And I don’t really feel comfortable at her place. It wasn’t so bad when it was just her, Amy and their dad, but now she’s there all the time... Looks like I’m going to be cut off for a while. My place is definitely out most days...”

Oh please, please don’t be asking what I think you’re asking...”Mine too. Mum’s usually home in the day and of course all of them pile in come 6. No privacy at all.”

He listened to Craig breathing quietly on the other end of the line. Was he disappointed? Well of course he was, but he hadn’t even actually come right out and asked had he? Well you didn’t, did you – not something like that.

“Sarah’s getting a bit – you know?”

Demanding, whorish? “I know, mate. It’s why you need your own place. Relationships; bloody nightmare otherwise.”

“Tell me about it. She’s talking about going away somewhere – just so we can have time. Says she never gets to see me these days.”

“She sees you every day!” He hoped he’d kept the indignation out of his voice.

“I know, but she wants more alone time – you know what I’m saying.”

Well tough: no privacy - no alone time. “That really sucks, man. I mean it’s the same with me and Hannah, but I think her house is sometimes free during the day.” Oh. Shit. Open your big fucking mouth why don’t you?

He could almost feel Craig perk up. “Yeah?”

“But it’s a bit hit and miss – I mean it’s not generally something you can plan-“

“Hannah’s safe – she wouldn’t mind.”  
That was probably very true. Hannah would probably relish the prospect of opening her house to Craig and Sarah. She seemed to be quite fond of foursomes. “Well...”

“Don’t worry, mate, it’s probably best coming from Sarah anyway.”

Well yeah, all girlies together: nothing better - or scarier. And he was a bloody expert on this subject matter: five sisters – scariest thing in the whole bloody world. When they all got together – in the one room – he’d often prayed for a cataclysmic event that would effectively take him out of commission – seriously prayed. “You’re probably right.” Lame, but what else could he say? Pimping out Hannah’s front lounge for Sarah and Craig’s ‘entertainment’ wasn’t a subject on which he had a whole hell of a lot to say – nothing that was printable anyway.

They drifted into inconsequentials after that, the football coaching at Anfield a subject neither of them seemed to tire of.

When John Paul went to sleep that night he found that the sourness of early evening had been banished quite as though it had never been.

 

**

He couldn’t believe Jacqui. He’d always looked up to her, yeah even when she’d been expelled from not one but two schools, constantly in trouble for robbing anything that wasn’t nailed down, using her fists, teeth and feet, a little more freely than a young lady should.

But this, this was one step beyond.

He hated seeing his tough older sister reduced to tears by a man. She’d never cried over a man in her life and now this bastard had brought her to this state; threatening not her, but her family, holding her over a barrel she had no way of rolling out of her way. Like all of them family was the one true weakness she had.

He felt impotent -completely impotent. He couldn’t even share this with Craig.

Not talking to him about this felt like...lying...yeah like lying to him. They were so open with each other these days – about most things – that it made him feel like an absolute sod keeping this from him.

Craig himself though seemed to have found a new lease of life.

John Paul didn’t really know what was behind it and he didn’t seriously ask apart from the usual ‘what are you so happy about?’ little teases that usually got an equally trite and teasing response.

He couldn’t swear to it but he had a feeling that Craig felt that he had his life pretty much under his control - relationship, home, school... and he was probably looking at Trinity as the zenith of all this – where his adult life would really start to take off.

Well, good for him. Maybe it was time to take a leaf out of Craig’s book and think about getting some control in his own life.

Family – well okay, forget that one. School yeah, no problems there. Relationships...

No control there at all – none. When it came to this aspect of his life he was an absolute dunce, no question at all about that.  
Question is did he have the capacity to slowly work his way out of the Dunce’s Corner by boxing a lot more clever when it came to taking control of his relationships?

No the question was: could he afford not to?

 

**

 

APRIL:

 

He’d told Craig about Jacqui and Alek.

Not telling him had been like a huge piece of grit in his eye, a splinter under his nail. Craig had been really sympathetic and assured him that the secret would be safe with him. Well yeah that’s why John Paul had felt so bad about not telling him – he’d known that Craig would keep anything he was told strictly to himself.

They’d talked about it for a while; about sisters and how you’d probably spend all your life wanting to protect them even when they were your ‘big sister’ and had spent their life protecting you.

Craig said he intended to be the one to give both his sisters away when the time came. John Paul had sighed and said that if any man was daft enough to take on any of the McQueen women he’d be up that aisle more often than an unrepentant bigamist.

 

**  
“Man, this is worse than before. Whoever decided that Shakespeare was the dog’s bollocks needs to have a cattle prod applied to his bloody bollocks.”

They were in Craig’s lounge trying to get to grips with their latest English assignment. Hannah had asked him to help her with the assignment and he had almost agreed – no skin off his nose, helping her out – until he’d seen the gleam in her eye. He’d told her that he and Craig were doing maths that evening and as he’d already agreed...

She’d wanted to make a fuss, he could tell, and it was true; they really hadn’t been spending too much time together since February, but she wasn’t Sarah, didn’t really feel that sense of entitlement that would make her put her needs as top priority.

So here he was with Craig as he always was these days.

He hadn’t really realised quite how much of Craig’s time and attention Sarah had demanded until Hannah’s party changed things.

He’d started to feel her eyes on him at odd times during the school day and though nothing had ostensibly changed between them he sensed that she resented the time Craig spent with him, time she clearly felt would have been better spent with her.

Craig had confided in him that she was so desperate for it that she’d got him to fuck her in the woods one Saturday.

John Paul had raised an eyebrow. Really? Bloody hell!

“Yeah, “ Craig had said. “Even supplied the blanket and everything.”

“Bit cold. Creepy crawlies all over the place.”

“She wasn’t cold, believe me and I didn’t notice anything crawling. It was alright – wouldn’t make a habit of it, mind, but it had been a while. And at least we got some bloody privacy.”

“Yeah.” He was silent for a while, ruminating. “Don’t think Hannah would ever be that desperate.”

“Well you maybe need to improve your technique then, John Paul, mate. Make her desperate. Know what I mean?”

“I think so,” he said drily. The day he made Hannah so desperate she’d force him to fuck her in a field would be the day he would most definitely have to end it.

“He is the dog’s bollocks.”

Craig rolled his eyes, put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “If you say so. Thank god that this will be the last, the very last time I ever have to do bloody English!”

“You keep banging on about it yet you keep getting A+ on your assignments, so methinks the lady doth protest a little too much.”

“Yeah, but it’s boring. BORING.”

“It doesn’t have to be – you just have to apply it to real life – modern stuff. Shakespeare’s themes are universal, still applicable today. You just have to get over the language. I admit that can be a bit of a barrier, but once you tackle that the rest is bloody interesting.”

Craig looked unconvinced, still leaning back in his chair, still looking bored. “Yeah well, think it’s time we took a break.”

“We just took one.”

“Oh and is there an embargo on breaks all of a sudden? Come on, so long as we get a certain amount done tonight we can take as many breaks as we like.”

Well John Paul felt they should press on but it was Craig’s place and as a guest he couldn’t really call the shots.

Next time they’d do it at his house though. He’d make sure they mostly did it at his house in future.

 

**

Well he'd reckoned without his mum. She was still unsure about Craig’s role in the soccer camp thing as soon became clear the following week when they arrived home early one afternoon – they’d told the girls they were doing the soccer camp modules (they’d completed the modules last month).

“Hey you two, not so fast.” She’d come in from the back garden and caught sight of Craig’s legs disappearing upstairs. “Come here, I want a word.”

“Hello Mrs. McQueen.”

“It’s Miss.”

Oh great. He ushered Craig down the stairs then instinctively stood slightly in front of him the way he unconsciously did whenever there was a sign of trouble brewing. “Mum, we’re busy.”

“Staying for tea, Craig?” she asked, ignoring him.

Craig looked at him. “Well-“

“Good; nice hotpot tonight, put some meat on them bones. Doesn’t Frankie feed you, love?” She said this with a laugh, but John Paul could feel the slight bite in the words.

Craig smiled. “I’ve got hollow bones, apparently.”

“You know I can never get used to the way you speak, Craig. Sit down for pity’s sake. It’s unusual to get southerners up here.” She waited for them to seat themselves on the sofa then perched on the arm next to John Paul. “Your mum’s not from down south is she?”

“No, the Midlands originally but she lived in London for a long time – met dad there.”

“Oh your dad – never met him. Look like you, does he?”

“Mum!”

“What? Craig and his brother are both dark. Mercy says your older sister’s dark too. Frankie and your other sister are both blonde – well unless it’s out of a bottle.” She laughed again and John Paul wanted to sink through the floor.

“No Steph takes after mum in her colouring – both fair. But yeah, the rest of us take after dad.”

She stared in silence at him for a moment, examining him from head to toe. John Paul felt mortified. Any more of this and Craig would never ever come back to his – ever! “You like it up here, Craig?”

“It’s home.”

“Oh is it law you’re studying in Dundee, Craig? Because that was a shyster lawyer’s answer if ever I heard one.”

Okay he’d had enough. “Mum.” He stood, with a penetrating stare encouraged Craig to do the same. “We have a ton of work to do. What with the football coaching every Friday we really need to crack on with these assignments.”

“I just want to get to know your friend a little better. You bring Hannah here and we hardly ever get a chance to talk to her. Same with this one. You don’t mind chatting do you, Craig?”

“Well I do, mum.” He herded Craig in the direction of the stairs. “We’ll be down for tea.”

“I’ll give you double helpings, Craig,” she shouted at their retreating backs.

In the sanctuary of his room he turned with an apology on his lips, but Craig was leaning against the door, trying desperately to stifle his laughter. Oh.

 

**

 

Jake and Craig spoke a language he didn’t really understand. He supposed it was probably the same for all siblings really – a shorthand based on history and a deep understanding of each other.

They didn’t appear to like each other all that much – well, mostly from Jake’s end, but the second week they went to Anfield he’d seen Jake lurking in the stands watching, quietly clapping when Craig did a particularly praiseworthy manoeuvre.

When it was time to be picked up he made it clear he’d only just arrived and was fed up to the back teeth with the chore of taxi-ing them across the Northwest...

So, like that then...

John Paul had a feeling that Craig didn’t have a clue how his brother felt about him.

**

 

Craig stayed over every Friday – just a habit they’d fallen into – but his mum had bought one of those air mattresses for his exclusive use.

And gave him twice as much food as the rest of them whenever he stopped for tea.

She still made disparaging remarks about him, but she kept asking after him – practically every day.

Craig hadn’t even made an effort to charm her, but then he really didn’t need to – he was naturally charming.

 

**

“This is a LOT easier than I thought it would be.” They were in the changing room, getting ready to shower.

Craig was already down to his jockstrap. John Paul was a little slower. The showers were communal and he dreaded this time each Friday. So far he’d been okay – he could look at the other naked and semi naked men (they were far and away the youngest ‘students’ on the course and had been relentlessly teased) with hardly any difficulty, but not Craig. ‘Looking’ at Craig was causing him a lot of problems.

“Well for you, maybe. You’ve taken to this like a duck to water, man. You’re a natural.”  
Craig looked pleased, standing there totally, unselfconsciously naked. “It’s fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Come on – we take any longer Jake’s gonna leave without us – you know he would.”

“I’m exhausted, gis a minute, can’t you?”

With a put upon sigh Craig grabbed gel and towel and left him. Thank god.

Okay, he could do this – he could. He didn’t quite know what the heck had got into him lately – everything seemed to be just a little awry where Craig was concerned and he kept telling himself to stop getting so close, but every time he thought about putting distance between them the thought seemed so ludicrous that he almost literally laughed it out of existence. Being close to Craig was what he’d been wanting for months and he could handle it - he could.

When he was naked he sat for a moment, concentrating on his breathing, working out in his mind his flight path from outer room to shower – somewhere on the opposite side of Craig if possible - the thorough, but quick ablutions and then the towel wrapped quickly and efficiently around his waist; dry and then get dressed before Craig who for all his talk of ‘get a bloody move on mate’ luxuriated in the shower – both here and at the McQueens - could come back...

Yeah, that’s what he’d do – same as he’d done for the last 2 Fridays...

Craig had his back to him, head back, water running over his face, into his mouth.  
No he couldn’t have spent more than a split second looking but as far as his cock was concerned he may as well have been worshipping at Craig’s ...altar...for a full two minutes. He turned hastily away as he felt it begin the inevitable elevation - and came eye to eye with Mike, the guy who hardly ever said a word, never joined in the ribbing. Their eyes met and held and something passed between them. John Paul felt his breath catch in his throat, heart thumping.

Mike turned without haste and walked out the shower room.

John Paul didn’t manage to finish his shower before Craig and got pilloried for it.

Mike was nowhere in sight by the time he left the shower and he wasn’t sue how he felt about that, not sure at all.

 

**

 

Well that was weird. What had that been about? He’d sort of noticed Mike before – he tended to notice dark-haired, dark-eyed men – and had exchanged a smile with him at least once, but nothing more. Until now. Something had happened in that shower room, something that had never happened before – well not in that way. It had happened often enough with Craig when they’d look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking. It happened with Jacqui and Tina too, but this thing with Mike had been different from any and all of that. It was unmistakably...sexual – no question at all and not just because they’d both been naked and he’d had a burgeoning hard on. It was like Mike was saying ‘I know you’ and John Paul had felt a little voice in his head responding ‘I think I know you too’...

 

**

“So you know when you and Hannah...you know...do you always-?”

John Paul waited for the end of the sentence. When it didn’t arrive he said. “No, not always. You?”

“Yeah, mostly. Well yeah before, but – I don’t know, lately...I think it must be the stress of the exams and everything. Still have a good time, don’t get me wrong-“

“Yeah.”

“Just don’t always...But she does – I make sure she comes.”

“Yeah me too.”

Craig sighed, moved in the darkened room, must have turned to face him because his voice seemed closer, more immediate. “It’s like sometimes I seem to be going forever and nothing’s happening. I’m enjoying it, but not like before. Maybe we need to change positions, try something different.”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of slightly awkward silence. “Do you- you know when she goes down on you?”

John Paul contemplated his answer. If he told Craig they never did it what would he think? But he couldn’t say she did – that would be a lie and unfair to Hannah... “We don’t really do that.”

He felt and heard Craig sit up. When he looked he could just make out the faint silhouette in the dim light provided by the street lamp. Even the silhouette looked shocked. “She never – I mean never?”  
He couldn’t say that she certainly bloody wanted to, it was him stopping her. “We just don’t do that.”

He felt Craig’s hands on the bed. He seemed almost ready to jump on him in his agitation. “You are kidding me! What never? But you eat her out, don’t you? Man you can’t do that!” Now he did sit on the bed, took hold of John Paul’s right leg and shook it. “You can’t give and not take. Man that’s the very last thing you should be doing. It’s got to be give and take – gotta be. If you keep going down and not getting it in return – nah, man. Nah.” His indignation seemed to have robbed him momentarily of the ability to speak.

There was a moment of silence, John Paul not knowing the first idea of what the heck to say next. The truth? “I know what you’re saying, Craig, but it’s different with me and Han-“

“Oh please don’t say you love her and that she doesn’t have to do those icky things if she doesn’t want to. Man! That is-“

“I don’t want her to, okay. She wants to – I don’t.”

He sensed Craig’s puzzled rumination. “Don’t you like it?”

“Craig-“ He sighed, stared up at the ceiling he couldn’t see. “I don’t know. I’ve never, well Hannah’s the first girl I’ve gone that far with. Never had oral sex until her.”

“So you’ve never had a blowjob.”

“No.”

“Wow. Sorry man, but all this time I thought you were getting head from her same time as you were giving it to her.”

He shrugged, said nothing – not much more to say on that particular subject as far as he was concerned.  
“So you’ve never...”

“Craig it’s no big deal. I told you she’s willing. I’m the one who doesn’t want to.”

“But it’s nice – really nice.” John Paul could feel his eyes on him. “Why don’t you want to?”

“I don’t know – it just doesn’t appeal.”

“But why?” The shake of the leg again.

“Craig, I don’t know – it’s- maybe it’s because I don’t really love her.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? You go down on her. Don’t get it mate. You saying you’d only accept a blowjob from someone you’re in love with?”

“No, of course not!” But was that really so? He had a feeling that he’d have no trouble accepting it from someone he was crazy about. “Look Craig it’s no big deal – not like I’m pining for it or anything-“

“But man you should be – if you’d ever been sucked off you’d want it all the fucking time!”

John Paul laughed. “Well I haven’t and I don’t. Any chance of giving this a rest?”

“No. Mate, you need to get that sorted out. Next time she offers don’t fucking say no. I fucking mean it.”

John Paul shook his head in incredulous disbelief. “I think it’s up to me-“

“Just do it. If you don’t like it then don’t fucking do it again, but no way am I letting this drop until you say you’ll do it.”  
“Well I guess I have no choice then.”

“John Paul.” His voice was unusually grave. “Don’t mess me about.”

“What? I said I would didn’t I?”

Craig was silent for a time then left the bed. John Paul heard the distinctive huff of the air mattress. “Okay,” he said quietly.

John Paul frowned. What? What did that mean? “Craig I will.”

“I know.”

“You don’t believe me though, do you?”

“I just don’t understand – she wants to and you’re *stopping* her? What’s that about?”

“Craig, I will. How many times?”

Craig didn’t reply and after it became clear that as far as he was concerned the subject was closed John Paul turned on his side and settled in to sleep.

“John Paul.”

“Yeah?”

“Was there – did something happen, you know when you were a kid? I don’t expect you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’d completely understand...”

John Paul sat up a little, seriously puzzled until understanding dawned. “No! No, man, nothing like that, nothing like that at all!” He couldn’t help but laugh a little this was so out of left field, so wide of the mark.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. No, it was just a thing I didn’t really want us to do, but as I said it’s not that big a deal. I will try it and as you say if I don’t like it well then I’ll- What?”

“You are such a – Look I guarantee you’ll like it. There is not a woman on Earth who doesn’t like having her pussy eaten and not a guy who doesn’t like having his dick sucked. Trust me, mate, you’ll like it.”

Well thus spake the Voice of Authority: who was he to gainsay that?

 

**

He avoided Hannah for the next few days.

 

**

 

“John Paul!”

“I’m busy.”

“Phone.”

“Who is it?”

“Michael.”

“Who?”  
“Michael. Hurry up, can’t you?”

He hurried downstairs, brain racing. Carmel shrugged at his puzzled enquiry and went back to watching t.v.

Picking up the handset he offered a tentative “Hello?”

“Hello. John is it?”

“John Paul. Who is this?”

“Right. I didn’t realise you went by both. It’s Mike – from the club.”

Oh. Funny how Michael just didn’t equate to ‘Mike’ at all in his mind. How slow was he? “Erm, hello.”

“You coming to the club Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, good. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink after. I think I can probably help you with a few of the principles you seem to be struggling with.”

“Well I’d like to – could do with all the help I can get if I’m honest – but I get a lift back and-“

“It goes without saying that I’d take you home after.”

“I live in Chester.” Oh how thick! He knows that, moron; how else would he have got your number?

“Not a problem. I’ll have you home before dawn I promise you.”  
There was a slightly different note in his voice now and John Paul felt himself go bright red. He glanced at the sofa but Carmel was engrossed in the tv. “Well okay. I’d like that.”

“Great. See you on Friday then.”

It was only Carmel’s shout that brought him to himself. “What?”

“I said it’s your turn to get the tea on.”

“Okay. Has mum left the stuff-?”

“Yeah, top cupboard and top shelf of the fridge. You okay John Paul?”

“What? Yeah, course. Why?”

“Nothing.” He could feel her eyes tracking him as he went to the kitchen, started sorting out the ingredients for their tea. “Who was that on the phone? Didn’t sound like he was at school.”

“Oh that was someone from the club- you know – where I go for the football coaching every Friday.”

“Oh yeah. Okay.” She turned back to the television

He breathed a sigh of relief.

 

**

 

He didn’t tell Craig about the phone call.

**

 

Although he didn’t talk to Craig about Mike the phone call was on his mind throughout the 3 days from Tuesday until he was due to meet him that Friday. For a start he’d have to tell Craig at some point that he was getting a lift back and he knew that Craig would make a fuss – he just would: that was his way. And he didn’t quite know what was going on between Mike and him. They’d barely spoken and yet here was the guy basically asking him out. He couldn’t pretend that that wasn’t the import of the phone call. Mike was about 10 or so years older than he and Craig – mid twenties he guessed – good-looking, very confident and self-contained. He was friendly enough but didn’t really take part in any of the clowning around that went on and certainly never took the piss out of him and Craig the way the others routinely did. But he didn’t seem gay. Only there was little doubt now in John Paul’s mind that Mike was indeed gay. That little look they’d exchanged...Well he could see now that this was what had been behind that sense of recognition - powerful, unmistakable recognition. He didn’t know what had given him away – perhaps the fact that he’d stared at Craig showering and got hard – but clearly Mike was confident enough about John Paul’s sexuality to make a move...

 

So was he gay? He didn’t really feel any different than he’d always felt, but it would be naive to think the way he felt about Craig was the way normal straight guys felt about their best mates. So yeah he probably was.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this: although he didn’t feel any different he knew that this tentative acceptance of this possible, no probable, fact about himself changed everything and sooner or later he would have to deal with that.

 

**

Mike didn’t acknowledge him until they were in the changing room.

“Hello you two. You’re both doing really well.”

“Thanks mate. It’s been a lot of fun.”

“Yes it has.” He looked at John Paul. “You’ve shown progress in devising the age appropriate game but I think you’re missing a trick or two. I’m happy to talk it through with you, maybe point out where I think you’re going a little astray, offer a few pointers...”

He felt Craig’s head turn sharply in his direction, then jerk to Mike. “He’s not doing too badly are you mate?” He gave John Paul’s shoulder a friendly punch. “Just a bit of practice.”

Clearly Craig interpreted Mike’s statement as a slight criticism of his mate and was on the case – defending John Paul.

He chuckled a little. “A LOT of practice.” He met Mike’s neutral brown gaze. “That’s really generous of you. I wouldn’t mind, no.” He felt Craig’s surprised agitation. Ignored it.

Mike’s smile was gorgeous, transformed an already handsome face into something really special. “Tell you what, why don’t I take you for a drink after we’re done? We’ll probably be able to thrash out quite a bit – put it into practice next week?”

“We can’t.” Craig’s voice was friendly, but firm. “We don’t live local. My brother picks us up. He’s our only means of getting back to Chester, so we can’t afford to miss him...”

“Oh don’t worry, Craig, is it? I’ll take John Paul home.”

He watched these two dark-haired men stare each other down, not really sure what was going on. Well no he’d sort of expected Craig to make a fuss and from the little he’d seen of Mike his low key demeanour masked a will of iron, a guy who seemed to know exactly what he wanted and quietly went about getting it. So there was bound to be a clash of wills here. And Craig was VERY territorial. He hated John Paul having other friends...

“Okay, if you’re sure. I do have to let mum know I’ll be late though – she tends to worry-“

“I’ll let her know,” Craig said, something a little off in his voice. He was clearly a little disgruntled by John Paul’s eagerness to go along with what he obviously felt to be a taking of liberties. Craig hated criticism of any sort and clearly couldn’t understand why John Paul hadn’t told Mike where to put his ‘pointers’.

“No, mate, you know what she’s like. Best coming from me before it happens.” He knew that Craig coming home without John Paul would be suicidal. No way was he going to allow her to scapegoat Craig.

Craig’s eyes told him that there would be a reckoning – and soon. “Okay, mate, whatever you think’s best. Shall we get out there?” He left without waiting for a response.

He had never seen Mike smile so often or so genuinely until now. Those smiles he’d seen before had been phantoms, only weak echoes of the real thing. He felt himself smiling back, blushing so hard he was sure the guy must think he was an untried virgin. Come to think of it...

**

He and Craig were in different groups – Craig had taken to this like a duck to water and was in the advanced group – so didn’t meet up until later in the changing room. He’d seen him talking to Mike – they were in the same group – and surmised by the exchange of smiles that Mike had put his mind at ease about his ‘intentions’ toward John Paul.

“Alright, mate? What did Myra say?”

“Well she made a fuss, of course, but she said so long as Mike came in to say hello she’d be fine with it.” He rolled his eyes. “As if I’m going to invite him in to be grilled and made a show of.”

Craig grinned. “Tell me about it.” He was silent for a second, examining John Paul’s face. “He’s pretty good, probably learn quite a bit from him. I told him I could probably give you some tips but he said it was generally better not to test a friendship with stuff like that.” He laughed. “Said it was a bit like teaching family to drive – probably best not to.”

John Paul smiled. “Yeah.” Well that was a load off his mind – his mum was alright with it and so was Craig. “So I guess me asking you to teach me how to drive is off the menu then.”

“Shut up.”

 

**

 

Mike took him to a quiet pub just outside the city centre.

They didn’t talk about the course, coaching or football at all.  
Mike was a solicitor, ambitious and skilled, already a junior partner in his firm. He’d always been a football nut and had undertaken the coaching course because he was apparently an inveterate learner, soaking up knowledge wherever and whenever he could, wanting as many strings to his bow as he could reasonably fit.

He made John Paul feel like they’d known each other for years, his quiet manner, the trace of Liverpool in his accent very, very attractive. John Paul felt like he was walking on air in Mike’s company, the focus from those brown eyes whenever he spoke making him feel very special.

“Well I’d better get you home, hadn’t I?”

John Paul looked at his watch – 11 0’ clock! God! “Yeah we’d better get going. Mum probably won’t go to bed until I’m home.”

“Let’s get you safely tucked up then – put her mind at ease. After you.”

**

 

Mike stopped on the outskirts of Chester, pulled the car into a dark country road. John Paul felt his heart start to race.

When Mike leaned in to kiss he met him, hands in his hair, eyes tightly closed.

It felt like he was drowning, this kiss unlike any he’d ever experienced. It felt nothing like kissing; it felt like sex, absolutely amazing. But when Mike pushed up his t-shirt and started licking his nipples he changed that assessment – no this was sex, this was amazing.

And then Mike adjusted him in the seat, kissed his way down to his groin, unzipped and took him in his hand, tongue already circling the head of his cock.

He held his breath for what could only have been a second or two, but felt like hours.

He was shaking, almost out of his mind with the pleasure. He wasn’t experienced enough, of course, to know how expert or not this man was at fellatio but he suspected he was pretty expert, every lick, touch just right, the suction just enough to keep him wanting more. More, more, more.

When Mike raised his head, kissed him, took his hand and put it on his crotch he went willingly, the fact that he had his head in this virtual stranger’s lap, sucking at him like a greedy infant, not even making a dent in the haze in which he found himself...

Afterwards they cleaned up and kissed for a long time, Mike whispering compliments in his mouth, his ear.

He felt not even a tinge of shame or regret.

When Mike asked if they could see each other again he answered with a kiss...

 

**

 

Obviously he didn’t ask him in.

**

When he came in he found Craig and his mum on the sofa watching t.v. Myra looked at him, said “Hello, son,” and went back to watching the telly. Craig said nothing and didn’t.

 

**

In his room Craig said: “You smell like sex.”

John Paul showered before coming to bed.

Craig was on the mattress when he returned and gave every appearance of being asleep.

 

**

 

Craig left while he was asleep.

They didn’t see or speak to each other until the following Monday at school.

 

**

 

“Craig!” Sarah had been calling him for a while now. John Paul knew him well enough to know he was simply ignoring her. He hadn’t spoken to Craig since he’d arrived a good 15 minutes earlier. Craig had been on the computer and seemed to be a little pre-occupied so he’d taken the hint and left him.

Sarah clearly felt such hints were not applicable to her and had been trying to distract him for the full 10 minutes since her arrival.

Craig looked immensely irritated. “What!” he snapped.

“I’ve been calling you.”

“Yeah? Why? Can’t you see I’m doing something?”

“Craig...” He’d never heard that note in her voice before – tentative, almost pleading.

Craig let out an exasperated puff of air. “Look I’m busy, okay? I should have done this over the weekend and I’ve got to get it done this morning.” He made a production of looking at his watch. “I’ve got 40 minutes, so if you don’t mind...”

She exchanged a look with John Paul, who shrugged and went to the kitchen area. When Craig was in that sort of mood it was best staying out of his way. Surely even Sarah knew that.

After a minute of indecision she snatched up her bag and left.

John Paul made himself a cup of tea, grabbed the paper and settled in.

**

He did finally manage to talk to Craig, but not at school: Craig didn’t have a busy Monday and John Paul did but they usually stuck around for the other anyway. Not today: after his double maths was over Craig left school. John Paul knew this for sure because Sarah, hurt and angry told him so.

“What’s got into him, lately, John Paul? He’s so moody, we hardly spend any time together anymore.”

She really seemed to be asking him. Well how the heck was he supposed to know what went on in Craig’s head? “Sarah I think it’s just the pressure – his first exam’s next week. It’s getting to him, I think.”

It was obvious to him that she wasn’t buying this as reason for his lack of attention. Clearly her exams didn’t matter to her nearly as much as Craig’s did to him. “No it’s more than that. He’s been really weird for a few weeks. You spend a lot of time with him, John Paul so you’d know. Is he seeing someone else?”

This was so unexpected that he just stared at her. He realised that his reaction had given her the answer she was looking for. He visibly saw her relax. “It’s just – he’s just not as...attentive...as he used to be and his phone’s often switched off. I thought this course you’re doing ever Friday, I thought it was a cover for him seeing someone.”

And he’d roped John Paul, Jake, the F.A in to lend authenticity to the cover. Yeah right. “No he isn’t seeing anyone else and certainly not on Fridays – we’re together all evening, no not seeing anyone.”

“But what’s up with him, John Paul?”

“Sarah I really think it’s the exams. I guarantee that once they’re over he’ll be fine.”

“You think so?”

“Of course.”

She still seemed uncertain. “John Paul could you have a word with him? I feel really neglected. I’m not asking him to stop doing revision or anything, just, you know.” She gave a little, unSarah-like laugh. “Remember that he has a girlfriend.”

He gave an inward roll of the eyes. What was he, a couples counsellor? “Okay I’ll have a word-“

“Be a bit...”

“Don’t worry I got it covered. I wont make him think we talked.”  
When she left a second later, smiling, thanking him he kicked at the table in irritation. He bloody hated getting involved in this stuff.

The next time he’d tell her where to stick it.

 

**

Hannah had the beginnings of a cold and was tucked up in bed.

Well at least he had an excuse for not kissing her.

She was pleased to see him but a bit embarrassed that she was not looking her best. She looked pretty much the same to him, but he knew that wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear so he added a bit of flower to his prose and that seemed to do the trick.

He was able to get away with a mere half hour in her company, her good mood stemming from the unexpected visit and the lovely compliment allowing her to generously let him escape pretty much unscathed.

**

Craig had been given the bottom drawer in his chester. His mum had quite simply rearranged his drawers without so much as a by your leave and cleared that one for Craig.

She’d bought him toiletries, flannel, comb, brush, several toothbrushes – all in the draw. Thankfully she’d allowed him to provide his own underwear.

She’d bought him a new duvet, covers and pillows too and every time he stopped over, had his clothes in the washer overnight ready for him to wear the following morning.  
He was just waiting for her to approach the council for planning permission to build a Craig Extension to the house...

When he arrived home later that afternoon he found the two of them in the kitchen, companionably sharing a meal.

“Hello, son. Wasn’t expecting you until later.” She got up, went to the cooker. “Just a bit of lasagne. Want some?”

“I’m starving.” Shrugging out of his coat, which he hung on the banister, he hurried to the table. “Mmm, smells great mum. Hi, mate.”

“Hi.” Craig was wearing the clothes he’d been wearing earlier and John Paul suspected that he’d been there for a while. He looked very comfortable. “Hope I left enough for you. Your mum makes great lasagne.”

“Telling me. Thanks mum.”

The three of them ate in silence for a good while. Craig was the first to finish and after asking permission to leave the table – Myra and John Paul exchanged a look – told John Paul he’d see him upstairs later, that he was going to get stuck into revision for a while.

 

**

He washed up then joined his mum on the sofa.

“This your last week on that course? Timed it right – you got exams next week haven’t you?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Craig getting on alright?”  
“Yeah. What do you mean?”

“On the course – he doing alright?”

“More than – he’s in the top group with the guys who want to take it up professionally.”

She seemed suitably impressed. “Not surprised. He’s a clever one that Craig – always said so.”

He raised an eyebrow, but said absolutely nothing.

 

**

Craig didn’t beat around the bush at all.

The minute John Paul stepped through his bedroom door an hour later Craig looked up, stared at him and said: “Did you have sex with him?” Neither his voice nor facial expression gave John Paul any clue as to how he was feeling and this made it difficult for him to know what stance to take.

Telling him to mind it was not an option – their friendship was not like that at all, did not really accommodate the keeping of secrets, but he really didn’t want to talk to Craig about what he’d experienced with Mike.

“Can I come through the door first? Maybe sit down?”

Craig didn’t smile nor did he release John Paul from the focus of his attention. He did allow him to come through the door and sit down, however.

John Paul sighed. Well okay, no point in pussyfooting around obviously. “Yeah we had sex.”

“So am I right in thinking you now know what a blowjob feels like?”

Why the hell couldn’t Craig have the decency to look somewhere else – just for a little while? He felt the red tide sweep up his entire body. “Craig...”

“Are you ashamed of it?”

“No,” he said firmly, absolutely certain on that score. “Not even a little bit.”

“Then why do you seem so...?”

“Oh come on, Craig. This isn’t exactly business as usual. It’s not like talking about girls or anything, something we’ve both experienced, something normal. I’m not ashamed but I do know it’s not considered normal.”

“Did you like it?”

Craig appeared to have ignored everything he’d just said, his attention very much focused on what John Paul had done with Mike. “Yes,” he said simply. “Yeah I did.”

Craig looked away, down at the book in front of him. “Did you do it to him?”

He hesitated, instinctively feeling that giving a blowjob was in a slightly category than receiving one. “Yes - very badly.”

“Did you like that?”

“Yeah.”

“More than eating pussy.”

“Yes.”

“John Paul...”

“Yeah I think I’m gay, yeah.”

“Okay.”

He waited for more but when no more came said: “You wanna get cracking on General studies?”

**

 

There was a slightly awkward tension between them now, but it didn’t feel insurmountable or even all that worrying. Craig needed time to get his head around things, that was clear. What was even clearer was that he still considered John Paul a mate – just a gay mate now rather than a straight one.

 

**

Hannah was back at school on the Wednesday. It hadn’t even occurred to him that anything had changed. It was only when he caught Craig’s eyes on them that he realised that his relationship with Hannah was no longer his business alone – Craig had got him to admit he was gay and if he were gay then he had very little business having a relationship with Hannah.

Craig cornered him in the playground.

“Hey, come over here.” He led the way to the bike sheds, watched John Paul’s puzzled face for a moment. “What you gonna do about Hannah?”  
He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t know what he was getting at. He took a deep breath, blew it out. “Craig, I hadn’t even got that far – this is all so new to me.”

“Is it?”

He looked at him. “How do you mean?”

“A little while back I found a couple of gay sites on your PC. I wasn’t snooping; I clicked on something - it was a gay site.”

Both boys stared into the distance, carefully not meeting the other’s eye. “So I sort of knew in a way and then when you wouldn’t let Hannah go down on you...”

They were silent, the awkwardness growing a little. Well that was a little...unexpected. “The thing is, Craig, I sort of haven’t really got my head around it yet. I think I’m gay, but-“

“You went down on another bloke – I’d say the chances of you being gay are fairly high.”

See, here it was – the giving head to another bloke thing. He’d just known that sooner or later it would be... regurgitated... and the mess picked over. “That really bothers you doesn’t it?” He felt defensive so went on the offensive since he really didn’t see why he should be made to feel defensive.

Craig gave him a look – a pretty unfriendly one. “Well what do you expect? You fucking lied to me, made a mug of me. You were probably never going to tell me you were gay. You’d have kept on going out with Hannah, made me think we- were just-just – and then kept on lying about having sex with other blokes behind my back. Behind Hannah’s back.”

“It’s not really your business, Craig.”

“I tell you fucking everything, John Paul. Everything. This, this is fucking huge. How could you even think of keeping something this big from me? You are my best mate – I trust you with my fucking life. How is it that you don’t feel that way about me?”

As questions went that was a floorer. They stared at each other, the air between them thick, dangerous with the unspoken, the never should be spoken in a million fucking years. And John Paul felt himself falling, falling...

“Hey you two! Are you fighting again?”

Hannah’s voice was like a pin to an overfull balloon. He and Craig both pulled back. He hadn’t even realised they’d been moving toward each other. The girls, arm in arm, looking immensely cheerful, were walking toward them.

“Nah, course not. Just a bit of a ‘debate’ about football – you know.” Craig kissed Sarah, offered her his arm. “We going to lunch, people?”

And that was that – the conversation left behind, Craig’s question unanswered.

 

**

 

He didn’t split up with Hannah.

**

 

Mike phoned him on the Thursday, asked him if he wanted to go for a drink Friday evening – he agreed.

This time he told Craig.

 

**

 

If he’d expected Craig’s attitude to Mike to be a bit off he was due for a big disappointment. There was nothing in Craig’s manner toward Mike to indicate that he had a problem either with him being gay or having sex with his best mate. And he *knew* Craig, knew when he was putting on a show. He wasn’t.

When the session was over, he said bye, see you in a few to John Paul and that was that.

John Paul couldn’t quite understand why he felt so...let down.

He received a text from Craig a few minutes after he’d driven off with Mike:

Dont let him fuck u.

John Paul felt himself blush as he stored the message then put the phone back in his pocket.

Mike glanced at the phone, at his face, then back at the road. He was smiling to himself.

John Paul didn’t enquire as to the source of his amusement.

 

**

They went to a different pub and once again spent a good while talking about Mike. John Paul liked this – it took a lot of pressure off him and Mike was very entertaining. John Paul told him he should have been a barrister instead of a solicitor.

He laughed. “Because I love the sound of my own voice?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. But no, that’s not for me – I’m a behind the scenes, all for the legwork kinda guy. What are your career ambitions? I’m assuming a future in coaching football is probably not one of them.”

He shrugged. “Dunno, really. I’m really into my dj-ing but not planning to make a career of it. I like writing, but that’s not exactly something you can plan is it – being a successful author.”

“Oh I don’t know. I think if you’ve got the talent and are prepared to do the work you might just get there, but there are all sorts of other openings for someone with the ability to string coherent sentences together. I’ve a friend who owns a gay mag – always looking for new pieces. Freelance basis of course.”

“I’m really new to all this...”

“Being gay?”

John Paul gave a sheepish nod.

“Well we all have to start somewhere you know. How old are you?”

“I’ll be 18 next week.”

“About the right age to come out.”  
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Mike contemplated him for a while. “Family?”

“No, not really. I think they’ll be okay. It’s more me than anyone else. I just don’t know if I’m really ready to think of myself as gay.”

“Well don’t then, just don’t keep thinking of yourself as straight either. Tell you what, why not just think of yourself as John Paul who happens to find the odd bloke attractive? Work for you?”

He sensed he was being teased a little, but didn’t mind. “Not sure – I do feel compelled to know what I am – not really happy just thinking of myself as liking the odd bloke...”

“So you feel more comfortable with a label?”

“In a way yeah, I think so. It sort of gives me a sort of touchstone-“

“Well John Paul you know best but in my experience ploughing your own furrow is by far the best way. You seem like a pretty independent kind of person; you need not feel compelled to be gay - a gay teen - like it’s a thing, a thing with definite rules, a definite template. Most people who know me don’t know I’m gay, but that’s not because I’m ashamed of it or am in any part of any closet, but simply because my sexuality is not the most important aspect of my personality. My advice, John Paul? Don’t make it the most important aspect of yours.”

John Paul looked at him, gave a slight shrug and turned his attention to his beer.

Food for thought – and it was true no-one knew Mike was gay yet he was very clearly not ashamed of his sexuality at all. Interesting...

 

**

 

They kissed in the car, but didn’t have sex. It was as though, for some reason, Mike had decided to back off.

“It’s been really nice getting to know you, John Paul.”

“That sounds suspiciously like the opening lines of a Dear John Paul letter.”

Mike laughed, ruffled his hair a little. “Well I don’t feel comfortable going any further with this sexually, but I’d like to think we could develop a friendship.”

“Well I-“

“If Craig will let me, that is.”

John Paul stared at him. What? “What?”

“You have a humongous crush on him don’t you? And my guess is that he knows that, sort of wants to keep all that adoration strictly focused - on him. He didn’t exactly warn me off – well actually he sort of did.” He seemed to find this very amusing. “He’s a way with the words, does Craig, but a pretty direct bloke all the same.” Now he held John Paul’s gaze. “Last week, he knew last week before we ...got to know each other a little better. I think he’s the sort of bloke who can sense a threat a mile off and though he wasn’t exactly sure that my intentions toward you were as dishonourable as they turned out to be I think he sensed that there might be competition for your focused attention and that did not sit well with him.”

“What did he say to you?”

Mike laughed again. “Oh we understood each other, don’t you worry.”

Yes but what did he actually say? “And that’s why you don’t want to – to see me anymore, because of something Craig said?”

This entire exchange, perhaps the entire situation seemed to be cause for amusement as far as Mike was concerned. “No, but I decided that it really wasn’t worth getting in the middle of you two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re just mates. Craig’s straight.”

“Yeah well I think mates can be as jealous as boyfriends at times, especially when they’re as close as you two.” He shrugged. “Not worth it – been there, done that... Ah look John Paul, I do like you and I wouldn’t mind having a friendship with you, but you’re a bit young really and you come with heavy baggage.”

“But I’m alright to have sex with.”

“Yes.”

There was a silence between them, John Paul feeling sore and out of sorts, especially as he felt raw and stupid. And young.

“It’s getting on, best get back.” He strapped himself in, avoiding Mike’s eye.

Mike didn’t start the ignition. He turned to John Paul and stared at his profile until John Paul turned to face him. “And if you think I’m going to leave it like this you have another think coming.” He sighed, took John Paul by the hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed it. “Don’t go getting all narked and feeling rejected. You’re not ready for this, John Paul. For a start you need to really get a handle on what being gay really means to you. I think it’s something you probably need to do when you’re *not* in a new relationship. And you’ve got your exams – really vital exams coming up. All in all...Look we could have sex – is that what you want – no strings sex, cos I can do that. It’s just I don’t get the impression that’s really your thing. I could be wrong.”

John Paul enjoyed the hand kissing: it made him want to feel Mike’s mouth elsewhere on his body. “I can do no strings,” he assured.

Mike laughed. “Well if you’re sure, but only for today.”

“Just to say goodbye.”

Mike laughed again. “Just to say goodbye, “ he agreed.

**

 

Craig didn’t stay over that Friday. He wasn’t there when John Paul arrived home and his mum told him that Craig had phoned a few hours before while he was still on the road to say he wouldn’t be stopping.

John Paul showered before bed and lay awake for a long time thinking about his life, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t at present a ball of confusion; that his life didn’t feel like it was barely under his control and wouldn’t go springing from his weak, incompetent grip any bloody day now...

**

 

“You get back alright?”

Craig – at – he looked at the clock – half seven in the morning. “God it’s Saturday! Have a bloody heart.”

Craig chuckled. “Been up for hours you lazy bastard. Fancy doing anything today, to celebrate passing the course?”

“Yeah, sleeping all day.”

“I thought we could go into town, maybe catch an early film, then have a meal, maybe go bowling...”

“I hate bowling.”

“No you don’t – you just didn’t like doing it with the girls.”

Well that was true enough. “What film?”

“No idea, but there’s bound to be something on.”

“Alright, but can I veg for a few more hours?”

“I’ll call round at 10 you lazy bugger. Better be ready – last free day before the exams.”

John Paul groaned, covered his eyes with his arm. “Don’t remind me. I could do with putting in a bit more revision to be honest.”

“Well maybe, but not today – today is the lads’ day out, comprendez?”

“I understand. You’re going to make me waste all the money I’ve been saving, probably eat something really dodgy and end up sick as a dog by the time Monday comes round.”

“Don’t be daft. We’ll go halves on everything. And we’ll eat in a proper eatery. Come on ,John Paul – one of the last days of freedom we’ll have together – let’s just go out and have a damn good time!”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Okay, just not before ten okay?”

He could sense Craig, a mile across the square, pump the air. “Yes! But I promise, 10 on the dot.”

“Okay, I’ll drag my carcass out with you.”

They stayed there for a while, not speaking, listening to each other breathing. John Paul was probably imagining this but was there a ...question ...in Craig’s silence? “Oh and by the way, no, I didn’t let him fuck me.”

“So you’ll be able to bowl okay without any twinges in embarrassing places, I won’t have to explain why you’re wincing all the time?”

John Paul felt himself go bright red, but mixed in with the mortification was the unmistakable taste of relief. If he were joking about it he couldn’t be all that bothered. “Oh we’ll see who bowls like they’ve just been fucked in the arse.”

He heard Craig splutter. “Oh way to be graphic, son. I think I’m going to end this conversation now before I start getting phantom twinges in unmentionable places. Is this what I’m going to have to put up with now that you’re ...gay?”

“Oh like you can talk. No-one’s more graphic than you when it comes to that sort of thing, Craig.”

“So this is what, you getting revenge?”

John Paul laughed. “See you later, Craig.”

“10. On the-“

John Paul ended the call, snuggled into the bed.

He tried hard to keep the smile from his lips but seriously it was a losing battle; not only was he smiling like a loon, he found himself relaying the previous conversation and actually chuckling at points.

 

**

The atmosphere felt really unpleasant. Jacq was there, Carmel and Alex too –all sitting as far from each other as they could possibly get. His mum was in the kitchen, the stiffness of her back making her mood very clear.

He looked to Jacqui, but she made a face and returned to the newspaper she was pretending to read. Carmel didn’t even look at him. Alex’s smile was reminiscent of a constipated gerbil.

Frowning, he went into the kitchen, fetched himself a cup. “Going out with Craig for the day. He’s coming round at 10.”

“Well neither of you are going anywhere without breakfast. Sit.”

She practically pushed him into the seat, a look sent into the lounge clearly meant to incinerate her offspring where they sat.  
What was going on? “What makes you think Craig hasn’t already had breakfast?”

“Craig never says no to food.” End of.

 

**

 

When Craig came round - on the dot of 10, had he timed it? – he was ushered in, divested of his jacket and forced in front of a plate of bacon, eggs, sausages and tomatoes.

He’d not been allowed to utter a word.

“There you go our Craig. I worry about you, I really do.”

His mum was standing over Craig, the expression on her face reminiscent of an earth mum lamenting the underfed, malnourished waif that passed by her window every morning.

He and Craig exchanged a look. “Well this is unexpected. Thanks, Myra.”

“Don’t be stupid – how am I going to let you go off without a full belly? Don’t want you collapsing on us.” She walked over to the sink, ran water. “You planning the whole day out, you two?”

Another exchange of looks, Craig’s eyebrow raised: your court, mate.

“Pretty much. Last day before the exams.”  
“Pity Sarah couldn’t go with you. Still I suppose she probably wouldn’t be in the mood with her dad... Any idea what’s happening there, Craig?”

Craig hastily swallowed. “Well he’s recovering. Still not good though, but he’s out of danger. I think.” That last was said sotto voce, meant for John Paul’s ears alone and was accompanied by a rather sheepish widening of the eyes.

No, he and Craig hadn’t really given Sarah the support, truth be told, even the consideration for what she must surely have been going through these last few days, too caught up in their own affairs to even pretend to care.

It was this, this more than anything, that made him finally accept that he really didn’t consider her a mate anymore.

He didn’t have the authority to speak for Craig.

They managed to get through a fairly silent breakfast, even Craig able to suss the sourness of the atmosphere. When he asked a question with his eyes John Paul could only answer with a shrug: he didn’t have a clue.

He took Craig’s empty plate and his own, ready to wash up before leaving.

“Don’t be daft.” His mum took the crockery from him with an exasperated sigh. “Off you go.” She was beaming – at Craig. “You boys have a good time, but don’t get too drunk will you?”

He rolled his eyes – great; now she’d put ideas in Craig’s bloody head.

 

**

They hadn’t gone to the cinema in the end – couldn’t find anything they both wanted to watch that had an early showing – and though they agreed to try again later in the end they just hadn’t.

 

**

It was only as he was waiting for Craig to finish trying on the jeans he’d taken into the changing room that it occurred to him that the looks he’d – they’d – been getting as they’d gone round the shop were a bit...off. Not off as such, but a definite...something: a definite *something* brought strongly to him when he caught the eye of the oh-so-obviously-gay sales assistant and received a nod and a smile. And at last he understood: they all thought he and Craig were a couple.

He was very amused, mostly because he could imagine Craig’s outrage. The thing is he hadn’t got a sense of any kind of hostility, just a sense of ...curiosity...like every straight guy – with his girlfriend in tow – was trying to imagine or *not* to imagine what he and Craig were going to be doing later on that night.

He was still grinning to himself when Craig returned (thank god he hadn’t had a rush of blood to the head and come out and posed in the jeans for John Paul’s approval!)

“S’up with you?”

“Nothing. You getting those?”

“Yeah.”

They had lunch in a nice little restaurant Craig seemed to know quite well. Craig paid, said it was his treat.  
They spent a desultory half-hour walking around the shops, laughing at anything and everything and then Craig asked him if he’d ever been to the zoo...

The smell was ...appalling...and the crowds and noise... He honestly couldn’t understand how anyone considered this entertainment.

Craig had taken the piss something rotten – accusing him of being scared and a bleeding heart animal activist. They went to every animal enclosure because John Paul, stung by Craig’s insinuation, was determined to prove him wrong.

“Well that’s a couple hours of my life I will never get back.” They were eating baguettes some miles away though he was sure he could still smell the bloody zoo, was sure he’d smell the bloody zoo for the rest of his damn life.

“Well if I had to suffer it thought it only fair that you should too. Can’t believe you’d never been to the bloody zoo.”

“And I was quite content to forever miss out on that experience. Thanks, Craig.”

Craig slapped him on the back. “Welcome, mate.” He frowned as his mobile rang, rolled his eyes when he saw the number.

“Sarah again?”

“Yeah.” He let it ring.

She’d been ringing him all day. He hadn’t accepted any of the calls.

“Maybe it’s her dad.”

 

“Well yeah, but what can I do? Not going to drop everything and come running, so best not to get into it.”

Well that was a point, he supposed.

He finished his baguette, disposed of the wrapper then rubbed his hands. “So where next?”

“Where do you fancy?”

John Paul held his eye. “Liverpool.”

 

**

They went by train and spent the rest of the day in Liverpool, came back to Chester in the late evening and spent the remainder of that in the pub.

Craig promised not to get him drunk.

They took a taxi back to Hollyoaks.

Craig was plastered, John Paul not much better, gallantly holding each other up as they sang their way up the McQueen garden path.

Carmel had to open the door for them, a look of exaggerated disgust on her face.

“Oh come in. Look at the state of you.”

They were ordered – helped – upstairs, Carmel making the call to Frankie - she wouldn’t get her head bitten off: probably the only McQueen who wouldn’t get her head bitten off.  
Although Carm had tried to keep them quiet he wasn’t exactly surprised to look up – he was flat on his back on the bed, Craig half lying on him - to see his mum and Tina at the door.

Suprisingly few words were said as the McQueen women sorted them out – arranging Craig’s bed, standing vigil outside the bathroom as they each had a lukewarm shower. That helped – he was definitely feeling a little more sober now, still a bit light-headed and out of it, but better – definitely better.

When he felt really better he was going to bloody strangle Craig...

**

 

“Aaaaargh, my head, my fucking head.”

“Well don’t expect any sympathy. You want an alka seltzer?”

“You’re a star.”

Craig’s groans followed him to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, making a face at his face. Never, ever again...

When he handed the fizzing mess to Craig he downed it in one, screwed up his face, gave a loud belch and handed him back the glass before throwing himself backwards on the mattress. For someone who claimed a pounding head he seemed strangely cavalier about ...protecting...it.

“You are a total bloomin’ mess.” John Paul crawled back into bed, turning to face the prone Craig. “I should never let you drink. You are a lightweight, mate.”

“Ugh.”  
“See? My point exactly.”

“Stop shouting, mate.”

John Paul rolled his eyes. “You going back to sleep?”

“Uh.”

“Okay, but I have to warn you, they’ll be here in a few hours, checking on you, and if you think your head’s banging now...”

Craig groaned and rolled onto his side. “Kill me now.”

 

**

Since it was Sunday they both slept in. Craig had a phone call from Frankie at around 11 which he managed to handle without sounding anywhere near as bad as he looked; said he wouldn’t be home for Sunday lunch and yes he had had a bit too much to drink, but was fine and yes, of course he’d be back for supper.

“The thought of food...bleurgh.”

“Yeah right. You’ll be ravenous in a minute.”

“Oh I think it’ll be longer than a minute.” He was lying on his back, holding his stomach. “John Paul.”

“What?”

“Next time I say ‘just one more’, brain me.”

“I was going to do that without your permission, but okay, thanks I will.”

“Did I make a fool of myself?”  
“No more than usual.”

“Thank god.”

John Paul laughed. “You are such an idiot.”

They drifted into silence and then into a short sleep, disturbed half an hour or so later, by – well by the usual McQueen household, early, mid, late morning shenanigans.

Craig had experienced it a time or two but whether or not he’d got used to it was a different matter – John Paul had experienced it all his life and still couldn’t say that he’d got used to it.

Of course the shenanigans burst into his room at one point.

He shouted, they shouted. Craig groaned and held his head.

 

**

 

When John Paul got the books out Craig protested.

“I’ve got Sociology tomorrow, man. I need to put some more revision in.”

“But everyone knows: if you don’t know it now you never will.”

“Everyone can go stick it up their arse.”

“Oh so gay metaphors are going to be peppering your everyday speech now?”

John Paul laughed. “How is that a gay metaphor? It isn’t even a metaphor.”  
“Well I’ve never heard you say ‘stick it up their arse’ before.”

“I’ve never had a Sociology A level in the morning before... for which I’m woefully underprepared. God, why do I always leave things to the last minute?”

“Oh shut up.” Craig, still in boxers and t-shirt sat on the bed, pulling John Paul’s folder onto his lap. The hair on his thighs; long and black, looked silky to the touch. “Oh man this is rubbish! How do you stand this rubbish?”

“Craig,” he said patiently. “Are you helping me or hindering me?”

“What would you like me to do? Ask you questions on topics you think will come up?”

“Yeah that would be helpful, actually. Here.” He scuttled over, leaned in to examine the page Craig was looking at. Craig smelled of shower gel, shampoo and toothpaste. He seemed unnaturally warm. Or maybe that was just him. “Yeah, see I’ve made notes on the things I’m a bit unsure of, so if you could just methodically go through...”

“Actually a nice pot of tea and a round of toast and marmalade sound just the thing.”

“You expect me to brave them downstairs? I’d never make it back up to do my bloody revision.”

“Well you don’t expect me to do it do you? I’m the guest.”

John Paul jumped off the bed, reached for a pair of socks. “Yeah, right. Pretty sure mum’s considering adopting you.”

Craig chuckled. “I like your mum.”  
“Oh trust me – the feeling is mutual. Now, you sure that’s all you want? No pancakes with maple syrup, no croissants, no – no that was a joke – toast and marmalade is what you’re getting. Tea or coffee?”

**

 

They ate the toast, drank the coffee they’d both opted for (he’d persuaded Tina to make it – she made wonderful coffee) before turning to the books once more.

Craig was a damn good study partner; for all his loud protests incisive and perceptive, pushing him – hard – when he sensed imperfect knowledge.

He didn’t know if Craig would be flattered or offended if John Paul were to tell him he’d make a great teacher so said nothing.

 

**

 

“Thank god!” John Paul fell back with a sigh of relief. “I was really shaky on that. Thanks, Craig.”

“We aim to please.” He shut the folder with a dull thwack, pushed it to one side. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes full of laughter. “You gonna do the same for me?”

“Maths? You have got to be kidding me!”

“Yeah I kinda was.”

“Cheeky bastard. I got my GCSE.”

“Did you?”  
“I am not that bad at maths. Oh okay I am that bad – by your standards, but not by ordinary standards and anyway we both know you don’t need any help with any of your stuff.”

“English.”

“Yeah, whatever, Craig, but we’ve got a while yet: we can both put in a bit of work – after we get this lot out the way. This week’s gonna be heavy, man.”

“Telling me – Sarah’s gonna be a mess.”

Oh yeah – Sarah. “Yeah.” He frowned at him. “You haven’t spoken to her for a while have you?”

Craig looked uncomfortable. “Didn’t know what to say – you know with her dad and everything. I mean I know it’s bad what’s happened, but I just - I just didn’t think I was the best person to comfort her. I can’t say that though, can I so I suppose I’ve sort of taken the coward’s way out and just tried to avoid her.” His eyes were fixed on John Paul’s face as though he were waiting for approval or protest.

Well John Paul could understand why he might expect a protest on Sarah’s behalf: he’d done a quite of lot of that earlier hadn’t he? Now, though, Sarah felt like an irrelevancy, not only to him, but to Craig also. “Don’t blame you, mate, but you’re gonna have to face her sooner or later. Just tell her that you didn’t want to intrude on the family; that you were thinking about her all the time, but weren’t sure the family would want an outsider around at this time of crisis and grief.”

The smile was slow to come but ended up big and broad, relieved. “You think that’ll work?”

“It’ll work when you say it. You’ve got her wrapped, mate, totally wrapped.”  
Craig made a face, which he immediately seemed to think better of, turning hastily away, clearly looking for a distraction. “So when are we getting the certificates?”

“End of next week wasn’t it?”

“Good, good.” He went over to the computer, switched it on.

“Craig.”

“Yeah?”

“You planning on getting dressed at all today?”

For answer Craig sat at the computer.

 

**

 

Well he did eventually get dressed (John Paul had been startled when Craig had gone to the wardrobe and taken out a pair of jeans and a shirt he’d never seen before. What was this? Was this his room or his and Craig’s room?) heeding John Paul’s words of wisdom re the harpies downstairs: “Best not, mate. Those legs – no – too tempting. They’ll be on you like a swarm of flies on a manure heap. Oh trust me I don’t mean that in any kind of flattering way. They will take the piss out of you till you pray for a slow, slow death. Trust me on that one.”

They were all there big as life and three times as ugly, all eyes turning to the two as they came down the stairs.

“Oh just cos he’s here doesn’t mean you get to shirk the washing up.” Michaela: sulking as she pared vegetables.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it – it’s my turn anyway, isn’t it? Craig can help.”

(*)“He too is Alexander.” Tina: very quietly to herself.

Craig and John Paul exchanged raised eyebrows, but didn’t enquire.

Well there didn’t seem much that needed doing, so to stay out of everyone’s way they elected to bag the sofa, watch t.v.

Russ, looking like a man who’d just been given the date of his own execution, joined them.

“Alright, mate?”

“Yeah.” Craig seemed ridiculously comfortable, as much a part of the fixtures and fittings as Russ, Alek. “Something smells good.”

“Lamb.”

“My favourite.”

“I thought it was chicken,” John Paul protested.

“Today it’s lamb.”

John Paul and Russ exchanged a look. It was only later that it occurred to him that it was a look two men might exchange over the foibles of a ...girlfriend... a sort of can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em kinda deal.

“Plenty of spuds for you, Craig.” Myra was walking over to them.

“Naturally,” John Paul said under his breath.  
Craig elbowed him in the side. “I love me spuds.”

“I too like my spuds,” Alex put in in that quaint way of his, the colloquialism sitting weirdly on his tongue.

The look Myra gave him could have scorched entire forests. “Well I don’t think we’ve made enough for second helpings for everyone.”

He caught the look that passed between Alek and...Carmel...of all people. Meeting Craig’s eyes saw that he’d clocked it too. “Well you make so much veg and stuffing mum I think we’ll all be too stuffed to fit any more in.”

“Craig’s having a second helping.”

This, for some reason, sounded like a threat. He could feel Craig’s effort to keep the laughter at bay. He pinched him. Craig cracked up.

**

Lunch was about what he’d expect – bickering and taking the piss. It was very, very clear that Craig was fair game, in no way considered a guest.

Craig didn’t seem to mind.

Frankie rang at 5. He and Craig were still washing up.

The conversation was a short one. Sighing, Craig picked up the tea towel and resumed drying duties.

“She want you home?”

“Yep.”

“Well you have been spending a bit of time away for home the last month.”

Craig snorted. “The odd day or two? Man what about when I go off to uni? She has to get used to it.”

“So this is your way of acclimating her?”

Craig considered. “Well I wouldn’t have put it quite that way myself, but I have felt more independent since I knew for sure I was going to Trinity, because I am definitely going, John Paul, no way am I failing anything this year.” He went on when John Paul gave a silent nod of acknowledgement. “I’ve felt like pleasing myself, doing what I want to do. It’s almost like I’m already there, really, just marking time till my exam results. Think Uni’s gonna change everything.”

John Paul smiled tightly. Yeah, he was pretty certain of that too.

 

**

 

Craig was gathering his things, John Paul amazed at how much he’d managed to stash away in odd corners without him even noticing.

A knock and his mum’s head round the door. “John Paul, Auntie Sharon’s just phoned – her old man’s passed away – funeral’s on Wednesday. I’m taking the girls up. You don’t have an exam on Wednesday do you?”

“No, but I do have one the day after and mum I need to do the revision and I really don’t need the distraction. I’m sorry about Sharon, I really am-“  
“I understand, son. Don’t worry about it, just get on and pass these exams eh? Sharon will be sorry to miss you though. You know you’re her favourite. You off then, Craig? Well don’t you be a stranger and best of luck with your exams too. Of course John Paul says you won’t need luck, you’re the cleverest person he knows. Say hello to your mam for me.”

The door closed with a gentle click.

Mortified, he stood there like a giant beetroot, until he heard a sound from Craig. Yeah he was smirking, just like John Paul knew he would be. “I only said that to try to win her over to your side.”

Craig slung a companionable arm across his shoulders. How this gesture could actually be...smug, John Paul couldn’t honestly say. “And it worked, didn’t it? She’s obviously captivated by my cleverness.”

“Shut up.” This should have been accompanied by a shrugging off of the smug embrace, but for some reason that didn’t happen.

“Who’s this Auntie Sharon?”

This close John Paul could see just how long Craig’s lashes were. He smelled of the wine they’d had after dinner. “Well she’s an auntie in the same way Darren’s your brother. She’s been a friend of mum’s since they were in nursery – really close, known us all since we were born and we do consider her family, but she isn’t.” He grinned. “She’s Black.”

“Yeah?”

“Loves blondes.”

“Uh-oh.”  
“Mate you have no bloody idea - none. I swear she’s got these pictures of me dressed in a dress with my hair all in ribbons that she’ll take out when she wants to really mortify me.”

Craig’s thumb was rubbing gently at his neck, a subtle stroking of the jugular vein. “I would pay good money to see those pictures.”

John Paul felt his breath stutter, the thoughts scattering in alarm. What the heck was he doing? He really should move away, let Craig get on with sorting out his stuff. Instead he stayed absolutely still, figuratively holding his breath, wondering what Craig would do next. But maybe if he pretended nothing was up and just acted normal that would encourage him to continue... “I think, knowing Sharon, she’d bloody make you.”

“Did you know her old man?”

“That would be her dad, not her husband – he left a long time before I was born. And yeah I sort of met him a time or two – they weren’t close. She wasn’t close to any of her family. I’d say she’s asked us along for moral support so she can face the family more than anything else.” Craig’d stopped the stroking, but kept his thumb resting against the vein. John Paul shivered.

Craig removed his arm from John Paul’s shoulder, casually walking over to the bundle he’d collected. “It must be nice to have an extended family you’re that close to.”

“Yeah.” He got the distinct impression that there was more – a lot more - behind the words but wasn’t going to press. He was still tingling, the vein in his neck throbbing wildly. Craig had touched him lots of times – this touch had been completely different. “See you Thursday then.”

Craig looked a little surprised for a moment then snorted. “You are really going to spend 2 days revising for General bloody Studies? You can’t revise for that really anyway.”

“Says you.” He felt steady enough to walk to the bed now and sat down, regarding the crouching Craig with as casual, normal a look as he could muster. “You’re telling me that you won’t be spending most of your time revising?”

“Well 3 exams, mate – not the pansy stuff either.”

“You intellectual snob.”

Craig grinned. “What can I say?”

John Paul snorted in turn. “Nothing. Please.”

“Well that’s me done.” He slung his backpack across his shoulder. “See you... Thursday? Thanks for the meal and good luck with the exam tomorrow.” He made a fist, smiled when John Paul touched it with his. “Later.”

“Hold on. I’ll get me coat.”

He half expected a protest, but Craig simply smiled and waited for him to find a jacket, following him downstairs a few minutes later.

“Just walking Craig, mam.”

“Okay, boys. Bye Craig.”

They walked and talked, teasing each other about anything and everything until they reached the Dog carpark. “Okay, see you in the week. Good luck for Wednesday.”

“Come in for a drink.”  
“Better not.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He took John Paul by the arm, dragged him along.

“I don’t think your mum-“

“Of course she will – it’s been ages since you came over to mine. She’ll love seeing you.”

Of course Frankie was not pleased to see him, just as he’d figured.

She was behind the bar. When she spotted Craig she smiled broadly, the smile dimming just a little, becoming just a little fixed when she saw John Paul. “Hello, love. Thought you’d be later.” Meaning: what the hell kept you? John Paul was a veteran when it came to decoding the code used by pissed off females.

“Hi mum, just going to get John Paul a drink.”

“I thought you told me he had an exam tomorrow, love.” She turned her sickly sweet smile on John Paul. “Last thing you want – a pounding head in the morning.”

“It’s only one drink, mum.”

“But you’ve been drinking a bit too much lately. No, best get John Paul home – sure he’s got more revision to cram in.”

He saw Craig start another protest, so quickly cut in. “You’re right, Mrs. Osbourne. Craig, best get going. I’ll ring you, yeah? Thanks for yesterday – great day out – except the zoo, you’re gonna pay for the zoo. See you, mate, Mrs. Osbourne.” He hurried out to stop Craig making a fuss, a little relieved to be away from the heat of Craig’s presence if he were honest.  
He got the text when he was halfway home:

Sos about mum. She makes such a fuss sometimes.

Check you in the week.

Good luck.

 

He read the message and grinned, a warmth growing in his chest, butterflies dancing in his stomach. He didn’t even know why the message sent him to cloud nine, but it did.

**

 

Craig phoned him on Tuesday: “How’d it go?”

“Piece of cake – all the questions you helped me with...”

“Yeah? That’s great man. So I’m useful for some things then?”

John Paul smiled as broadly as if Craig were there in front of him. “Well jury’s still out, but...”

“I’ve been cramming so much all I see are numbers, ys and xes.”

“That’s how I feel about maths at the best of times.”

They spoke for a long time about nothing in particular, just happy to spend time together.

Just as they were saying their goodbyes, Craig asked: “Your lot gone to Manchester yet?”

“No, they’re getting ready and trust me that’s like a 3 hour affair. They’re staying overnight and if I know Sharon they’ll be off their faces all day tomorrow and won’t be back until Thursday.”

“I was gonna say sounds like fun, but that would be insensitive of me wouldn’t it, seeing it’s a er funeral.”

John Paul agreed. “So it’s a good thing you didn’t even think of saying it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t speak for a while, but the silence felt comfortable, not something either felt the need to fill with idle chatter.

“So see you later then.”

“Yeah. Good luck tomorrow.”

An unexpected small silence. “Yeah. I’ll need it. Bye mate.”

John Paul looked in puzzlement at the silent phone for a minute. Craig wasn’t at all nervous about his maths exam, was really, really confident, in fact, so why had he said that? It hadn’t sounded like small talk, had really sounded like he meant it...

 

**

 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had the house to himself, but this time felt different. Knowing that he was going to be alone – completely alone - for two days made him feel both elated and after the first flush of excited relief a little lonely.  
So weird to wake up to the sound of silence, to have the bathroom all to himself, to eat breakfast alone with only the telly for company.

It was...weird...really weird.

After a time he told himself that this was proof positive that he needed to move away: if he weren’t careful he’d end up one of those saddos who never left home. This gave rise to the speculation that it was probably only marriage that got most straight guys out of the family home. Gay guys? Well he didn’t see openly gay and living with mum and dad as a natural fit somehow so maybe it was this that got most of them out the nest.

He wished he could be more like Craig, determined to leave, not feeling any sort of guilt: he obviously saw it as a natural progression – school, uni, marriage, kids... Well John Paul assumed the last two – they’d certainly never really discussed this subject except in the ‘I don’t bloody think so, thank you very much’ sort of way but John Paul assumed he’d meet someone who’d change his mind.

And speaking of which; how was he? Looking at the time he knew that Craig should be out of the exam hall by now. Should he phone him?

No, best to give it just a little longer.

The most important question now was what to have for dinner. His mum had stacked the freezer – overstacked the freezer – with ready prepared dishes, but he should have taken something out earlier to let it defrost so he’d probably end up going to the chippy. Mum would kill him if she knew, but she wasn’t going to know so...  
He spent a few minutes desultorily going through his General Studies folder, but that was so boring and besides Craig was right – you couldn’t really revise for that properly anyway.

Telly was boring too.

He made himself a cup of tea, drinking it in the kitchen, standing up. His mum would have killed him, but again...

He frowned as he heard the front door: the sound of a key. Oh what, had they changed their bloody minds and come back earl-

Mouth agape, he watched as Craig came through the door, backpack in hand, removing the key before closing the door with a loud click.

He took off his jacket and hung it up, setting his backpack on the floor. “John Paul?”

“Er...hi.”

“Hiya mate. Another one of these going begging?” He was wearing a short sleeved top that really suited his colouring. His eyes were shining.

“Er sure. Want a butty too?”

“Something hot. Bacon?”

“You don’t ask much, do you? Sit.”

He set the frying pan on the cooker, found the bacon and laid several strips across the large surface. Might as well have one too. “Egg?”

“Go on then.” He was writing a text and seemed a little distracted.  
John Paul went efficiently about his business, doing his best to pretend that everything was completely normal. “Go okay?”

“Great, man. Piece of cake.”

“Good, good.” Craig liked his bacon quite well done if he remembered correctly and his eggs with the centre a little soft, but not runny. “Bread or toast?”

“Bread.” He’d got up, fetched a tea pot and switched on the kettle. He was looking in the bottom cupboard and eventually emerged with brown sauce and ketchup. “Been ages since I had a bacon butty.”

“Yeah?”

“I usually can’t be bothered to do it myself and mum never does. Says it’s common.”

Well get her – like she was born with a silver spoon. He’d better not tell his mum *that* unless he wanted Frankie Osbourne to get her head ripped from her shoulders. “Well common’s good, common’s actually a bit tasty.”

“You telling me. Mum’s a bit of a snob and we’re the ones who suffer for it. Did I tell you about that week when she was trying to do all those poncy recipes off the telly? Tiny slice of meat topped by a sliver of veg and a ‘drizzle’ of sauce, all in the centre of the bloody plate! We didn’t talk to her for days.”

John Paul laughed, handed him two clean cups. “Best not tell mum that one, she’ll try to retrospectively feed you up.”

Craig took the cups, added milk and sugar. “I’m not that skinny, am I?”

“Pleading the 5th, mate.”  
“Shut up. Oh come on, more butter, what’s this – your mum tries to fatten me and you try to starve me?”

“Craig any more butter and you’d be tasting that rather than the- okay do it yourself then.”

When they’d come to an amicable decision about how much butter was supposed to accompany a bacon and egg heart attack on a plate they took said plates to the table. Craig poured the tea.

“I needed that.”

“Didn’t you have lunch?”

“A few hours ago,” he protested, swallowing the last bite of butty. “And expending all that brain energy takes a lot out of you. I know you don’t know what’s that like, John Paul, but take my word- Ow!”

The tussle ended up with two plates smashed and tea all over the floor.

“You’re cleaning that up.”

“What, you started it!”

When they cleaned up and washed up, taking care to wipe down the countertops – they both agreed that mums were a right pain when it came to that – they took their freshly made cups of tea over to the sofa.

Craig took off his shoes - to loud protests - and rested his feet on the footrest.

Well, now seemed as good a time as any...  
John Paul turned to his friend: relaxed, comfortable, completely at home. “Craig, you’ve got a key.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Okay. Any particular reason you’ve got a key to my house?”

Craig looked at him, then laughed. “Wow, you think I made an impression of your key in plastocene, then somehow got a key made?” He seemed to find this idea hysterical. “I’m not that desperate. No your mum gave it to me the other day, told me to come and go as I please.”

John Paul was teetering between two very important queries – what did I’m not that desperate mean and what the hell was his mum playing at? “Well okay. She didn’t tell me she’d given you a key.”

Craig shrugged like it really was a matter of very little importance. “Well...”

John Paul watched his face, not really understanding exactly what it was he wanted to say, not entirely sure that he knew what the heck was going on at all. “Craig.”

“Yeah.” He’d turned his head to face him and was looking straight into his eyes.

Oh. Oh god, well okay. “Er...”

“What?” It wasn’t the usual, sharp, Craig-flavoured interrogative, but something a lot more...intimate... a stop fronting, get with the programme kind of ‘what’.

John Paul felt his heartbeat start to accelerate, all the pulse points on his body joining in the chorus of anticipated excitement until he felt... deafened. “Er...what’s going on here, Craig?”

“What do you think?”

“Dunno, s’why I’m asking.” John Paul looked down, startled: he hadn’t even noticed him move his hand. And yeah Craig had touched him loads of times but never like this, with this deliberate, ‘I’m putting my hand on yours’ slow intent.

“Well I asked you out on a date – I stopped over – your ‘parents’ are out for the day. I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to work out what comes next.”

John Paul gaped at him. What? “What?”

“Oh come on, John Paul, how slow are you?” He was holding John Paul’s hand now, keeping his distance, but with his body turned almost completely to face him. “Didn’t you know we were on a date?”

“You took me to the bloody zoo for our first date?”

Craig laughed, leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, then made to move back, but John Paul stopped him; hand at the nape of his neck, pulled him back.

The kiss was not at all tentative on either side, it was just the fact that they were both trembling so badly that made it go so, so slowly.

Not even Mike had kissed him like this. He certainly hadn’t kissed Mike like this. He was completely present, feeling every slight movement of Craig’s mouth against his own, the light press of teeth, the prickle of the hair above Craig’s top lip. They seemed to be on the same page as they often were in other things – passing control back and forth - until Craig groaned and pushed his tongue insistently into John Paul’s mouth.

If the expression ‘all bets were off’ had ever applied to a situation then it surely applied to the wildness that took hold of them once they decided to let it off the leash.

They ended up on the floor, Craig’s t-shirt hanging off his arm (the white undershirt ripped in several places where John Paul had lost patience and attacked it) legs wrapped tight around John Paul’s waist.

John Paul hoped to god Craig wasn’t recording any of this because he would simply die of mortification if he were ever to have any of his words relayed back to him.

Craig confined himself to simply groaning his name; not telling him what he was going to do to him, how beautiful he was...

Seriously if Craig teased him about any of this later he’d never bloody speak to him again.

He said “Let’s go upstairs.”

Craig, kissing his mouth, whispered: “Go down.”

He went down.

 

**

 

Whenever he’d gone down on Hannah he’d just gone straight for the prize, not bothering to take the long way home. She practically had to shove her breasts in his face, hand them to him, jutting nipples first, before he’d get the message.

He took the long, long way home with Craig, pausing to admire the scenery, sample the scenery, on the way.

Sensitive neck, sensitive nipples (he made a mental note). Gorgeous torso and belly.

He hadn’t really seen much of Mike’s body during their sessions in the car, but he’d clocked him in the shower and he was gorgeous.

Craig was more gorgeous, in his opinion, everything perfect – just perfect.

He kissed every inch of golden skin, pushing the mangled shirt out of his way, using his tongue to elicit a gasping moan from Craig, gradually working his way to the cock that had been pressing insistently into his flesh for some time now.

Nice and big and wet...he touched his tongue to the head. Craig moaned, tangled a hand in his hair. “Like that,” he urged. “More of that.”

So John Paul gave him more, working the head of Craig’s cock, sucking and licking until his own cock was throbbing in sympathy. Then he put as much of it in his mouth as he could without choking, then a little more and a little more still. Craig was hissing now, vocal, encouraging him with hand and voice and he went down and down...

 

He’d been prepared to let Craig come in his mouth, but Craig had other ideas. He pulled John Paul into a kiss, reaching for his hard on, expertly pulling him off till he was gasping, so close he could taste it. He groaned then had to take a deep breath and briefly pull out of the kiss when he felt Craig’s cock against his own. Craig had taken them both in hand and was wanking them with quick expert strokes. They both watched, breath heavy and loud in the quiet of the room, Craig’s hand now covered by John Paul’s as they both strove to reach completion.

“Condom,” Craig groaned as John Paul kissed him, sucking hard on his tongue. “Next- uh- time-”

He was right of course: they’d really made a mess – condoms next time. Definitely

 

**

 

They didn’t talk as they cleaned up, but during the shared shower kissed long and heavy, arousing each other again.

They dried each other, John Paul taking the opportunity to kiss the skin revealed to him – no bits of cloth to get in his way this time - then led Craig to his bedroom.

Two in the bed was a squeeze but he liked that, liked being that close to him. Craig was back turned, hand on John Paul’s left flank, John Paul kissing his neck and shoulders, arms around his waist. “That was nice,” Craig said, accepting John Paul’s kiss.

“It was. Didn’t realise you had that big a hand.” He took it, examined it, kissed the fingers.

“Didn’t realise you had that deep a throat.”

John Paul blushed, smacked him lightly on the arse. “Well you inspired me.”

“So you didn’t do that with Mike then.” His voice once again gave nothing away, but John Paul was immediately on the alert. He didn’t want anything to spoil this idyll, but sooner or later they would have had to talk. Boy that must be THE understatement of the century.

“No I didn’t. I only did it the once and as I told you I did it badly.” He saw Craig’s smug smile. “Well I wouldn’t be feeling that smug if I were you – I was thinking about you at the time.” He grinned into Craig’s hair as he saw him take the few minutes to try to work out whether or not he should be flattered.

“Yeah? You were thinking of me while you were...with him?”

“Pretty much par for the course.” Well maybe he should have kept that one to himself, but it was done now.

Craig was silent, taking this in. He reached back, twined his fingers with John Paul’s. “Er...same here. Haven’t been able to get you off my mind. S’why me and Sarah...” He chuckled. “I er...almost called your name one time when I came.”

John Paul felt those butterflies start their familiar dance low in his belly. “God.”

“Yeah.”

They lay in silence, cuddling – no other word for it - John Paul nuzzling Craig’s neck, Craig’s fingers making music on his thigh.

“I didn’t know you...felt that way.”

Craig laughed. “Yeah I noticed.”

“Well to be fair you didn’t exactly make it clear, Craig.”

“Oh asking you out on a date, spending all my free time with you? How much more obvious did you want me to be?”  
“Well actually saying: John Paul, I fancy you, will you go out with me? That would have been as obvious as I wanted you to get.”

Another burst of laughter. “Oh that’s a bit too obvious. Nah, never gonna happen.”

“You asked Sarah out.”

“That’s different.” He pinched him. “I hoped you’d catch on without me actually having to come out and actually fucking say it.”

“Hmmm...still haven’t.”

“What?

“Actually come out and said it.” He kissed Craig’s neck in case he needed the encouragement.

“Didn’t I? What was all that downstairs then?”

“Stealing a couple of runs without striking a ball.”

“You fucking what? Cricket? Sex and cricket – you perve!”

“Do not change the subject. I want to know.”

Craig sighed, turned in his arms. His eyes were soft, amused. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the tip of John Paul’s. “I fancy you, John Paul, will you go out with me?”

“What about Sarah?”

“What about her?”

“Which of us are you going to be two timing?”  
“Neither of you.” He held John Paul’s gaze for a moment then sighed, rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay I’ll finish with her, but after the exams, okay?”

He thought about it. Then nodded in agreement. “Okay, but finish with her before we go to the States.”

“And Hannah?”

“Same.”

This decided they kissed on it, kissed some more, then a little more still until Craig was once more flat on his back, John Paul relearning the contours of his body....

**

 

John Paul ran to the chippy and got there just before it closed. They’d fallen asleep and woken up ravenous, panicking when they’d seen the time.

They ate the fish and chips in bed, John Paul silently apologising to the absent Myra, vowing to air the room the next morning, definitely get rid of the evidence of his indiscretion.

They’d experimented a little – John Paul wanking Craig to precise instructions then doing them both. Later Craig had lain on top, after using the lube he had stashed in his backpack on both of them, and rubbed them off.

That was really nice – nice and intimate, looking into each other’s eyes, the pleasure showing in the catch of breath, the biting of lip, the deep intensity of gaze. He’d wrapped his legs around Craig when he came, squeezing the orgasm out of him or so Craig’d insisted later.

And they’d talked.

Craig said he fancied him, but didn’t think he was gay. John Paul told him it didn’t matter so long as they were always...straight... with each other. This had led to a tussle followed by kissing and then another blowjob for Craig, John Paul insisting on letting him come in his mouth, leisurely pulling himself off when he did.

This was better than anything he could ever have hoped for. Craig astonished him. It was as though he’d been thinking about this for ages, wasn’t at all phased by the things they were doing, was a lot more okay with this turn of events than John Paul himself was. Well yeah he had orchestrated it, after all.

And besides John Paul was in love.

He didn’t think Craig was.

**

 

They went to school together the following day, unexpectedly meeting the girls on the way.

John Paul had been caught by surprise: the jealous fury stirring deep in his gut was no longer a familiar companion yet here it was again, awoken when he saw Sarah kiss Craig, link his arm.

Craig didn’t meet his eye.

“God it’s been ages, John Paul. How did your sociology go?”

Hannah was clinging to him, smiling up into his face. God she was besotted. He was the worst boyfriend in the world and yet she didn’t seem to care, so long as they were going out. Well maybe he should just put her out of her fucking misery already! The spiteful urge to finish with her –not to spite her, but Craig – (they had a plan that he had the sudden, vicious urge to scupper) – came... and went.

He smiled at her, kissed her pretty face. “Well it felt okay. August 16th and we’ll know for sure.”

“Yeah, I’m so nervous, John Paul. Sure I’m going to fail them all. I’m so thick.”

Oh here we go. “Don’t be daft. You are so brainy I don’t know why you ever worry about your exams Hannah.” He hugged her to his side. “You’ll fly it.”

She was saying something, but he wasn’t listening, watching the couple in front of him cuddle, kiss, stick a long familiar knife (that was white hot now he knew exactly what he had to be jealous about) deep into his belly.

This didn’t feel like a heart thing right now: it felt a lot more primal than that.

He and Hannah went to the library while Craig took his next exam. He had no idea where Sarah went, but wasn’t surprised to see her all over Craig when they entered the room where they were to sit their General studies exam.

He saw Craig see him, but give no sign, kissing Sarah: holding her between his thighs and really kissing her.

Hannah grinned at him, nudged a painful, conspiratorial elbow in his side. He gave a sickly smile and found a window seat, stared out at the very uninteresting sky.

When the exam was over he claimed a headache and went home.  
**  
They were back, talking all at once as soon as they saw him.

He’d have expected this to agitate the soreness but on the contrary their familiar foolishness provided a certain balm to the hurt and he joined in, groaning when he listened to the voice message Sharon had left for him on his mum’s phone.

Of course the first thing she’d asked was had he been to the chippy? Caught offguard he’d hesitated. Luckily her mood was too good to give him a proper lecture, but he vowed to bloody hide the evidence properly next time – dig a hole and bury it in the garden...

They were all together in the lounge watching tv when Craig came round. He didn’t use his key.

John Paul didn’t make a move when he came in then realised that this was probably just a little suss so trying to act as naturally, as casually as possible led him upstairs.

He sat on his bed and simply looked at him, keen to know what fucking crap he was going to come out with to explain himself.

“Well if you’re expecting an apology you’ll be waiting a long time.”

“Okay, so what? What should I be expecting?”

“An explanation.”

“Go on. I’m all ears.”

“I had to know for sure.”

“You slept with her.”

“Yeah.”  
John Paul shrugged. “And?”

“Well I said I wouldn’t finish with her before the exams were over.”

“And now you remember what pussy tastes like you’ve decided not to finish. Well thanks for letting me know. Do we still hang around together or...?”

“John Paul.”

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare put this on me! God, Craig I knew I shouldn’t have got involved. I am such a fucking idiot.” He brushed furiously at the bitter tears stinging his eyes. “Oh get out. Just go.”

Craig had been leaning against the door and didn’t move as John Paul stormed toward him. “Will you just calm the fuck down!” He put both hands in the middle of John Paul’s chest and pushed. John Paul came back, fists clenched, wanting to batter him, but just couldn’t, couldn’t bring himself to hurt him physically.

“Please go,” he pleaded.

“John Paul.” Craig had his hands at his side, clearly stopping himself from reaching out and when John Paul looked into his eyes he saw the pain and confusion there.

“Craig, you broke my fucking heart.”

“I’m sorry, sorry I had to do it that way, but I had to know. Look I haven’t really fancied her for ages, but it’s been a while since we’ve been together and she was enthusiastic – I knew she’d be all over me and I- I had to compare it. I went for it because I wanted to see how that felt – with her as opposed to you. I hate that you walked in right then, but once I decided that was what I was going to do I had to go ahead, couldn’t think of you or let your feelings stop me. I had sex with her, went down on her, let her do it to me and then I fucked her. No, listen.” Now he did reach out, spun John Paul round to face him. “I made it really good for her, John Paul because that was the last time. It’s over between me and Sarah. I came here to tell you that. For you, John Paul, I finished with her after fucking her – for you I broke her fucking heart. All for you.”

They stared at each other, both close to tears, the air between them thick with high emotion, zinging with it.

“Craig.”

Craig shook his head, moved into John Paul’s arms.

John Paul took the hint and said nothing, just held him while he shook.

 

**

He walked him home, kissed him under cover of the overhanging trees in the carpark.

They agreed not to see each other for a few days.

 

**

 

For his birthday on the Friday the family clubbed together and bought him a new sound system. Hannah bought him a nice blue shirt. Craig sent him a card.

Of all the gifts he received that day this was the one he treasured the most.

Funny how love worked, how it changed absolutely everything; lent significance to the smallest gesture, the simplest words.

 

The simple message: “Thinking of you” was worth all the systems, all the shirts, all the gold in the entire fucking world.

 

**

 

On Saturday the girls descended on him.

 

**

 

“John Paul you can tell me; I know he’s seeing someone else – I just know it. You’re not making it easier for me by not telling. I’d rather know – it’s eating away at me not knowing for sure.”

They’d both been tearful when they’d landed on his doorstep; now Sarah was spraying tears and snot everywhere, bawling her head off, throwing herself into his arms in a bid for comfort.

Oh god. And Hannah was hardly any better: crying in sympathy, not a single sensible word to impart. Yeah all on him – as Craig’s best mate. What the heck did they expect from him? He was Craig’s best mate – if Craig didn’t want Sarah to know who he was seeing well John Paul was hardly likely to be spilling the beans any time soon, was he?

“Sarah I honestly don’t know. I doubt it. What makes you think he is?”

“I can just tell. When we- you know – he doesn’t seem so ...keen and then at times he seems to be a bit *too* keen, but like he’s...thinking of – Oh John Paul please tell me.” She was staring into his face, like she felt that he’d come clean if she outstared him or something.

“Sarah I would - I promise you I would - but as far as I know, and I swear this, Craig isn’t seeing another girl.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She and Hannah exchanged a look that he couldn’t read. “So why? Why did he finish with me then? It’d been such a long time since we’d been together – my dad and everything – I know I haven’t really been a great girlfriend, but when we met up it was just like before – better. And later when we – it was so good, better than it had ever been and then he finishes with me. It just doesn’t make sense.”

So why the heck was she looking to him for answers? “You spoke to him?”

“I’ve been trying to for ages. I finally got through this morning. He told me it was over; we could still be mates, but it was over.”

Thus the trek to Counsellor John Paul McQueen’s humble abode. God what the hell was he supposed to do, supposed to feel? He felt like squirming, not exactly guilty, but uncomfortable, certainly. He didn’t think it was anyone’s business what he and Craig did and he wasn’t even sure exactly how serious Craig was about this ...thing...between them.

He wasn’t going to push him that was for sure, prepared to take whatever he was prepared to give...

“I’m really sorry, Sarah, but he’s said nothing to me about this. This came as much of a surprise to me. I had no idea.”

“But you have to admit he’s been a bit weird lately, John Paul.” Hannah was holding the sobbing Sarah now.

Good: sure she could do a much better job. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just different, a bit sort of aloof, like he sort of doesn’t want to know us. Kind of.”

“Can’t say I’ve noticed, Hannah. Seems the same to me. Are you sure it’s not just the exams – you know how important they are to him.”

“Yeah, I suppose. They are important aren’t they?”

Yes, Hannah, you could say that. “I’m sure he’s going to be fine now they’re mostly out the way.”

He saw Sarah’s thoughtful look and groaned inwardly. Did she never take the fucking hint?

“I don’t want to rush you or anything, but you did kinda interrupt my tea...”

“Oh John Paul we’re sorry. Come on Sarah.”

When they’d gone he breathed a sigh of relief then phoned Craig. Maybe he should brace himself for another Sarah onslaught – she’d probably give it a week or so and then try to win him back. Well John Paul guessed one could maybe win a lover back from a ‘usurper’ but wasn’t so sure that worked as well on ...indifference.

Well he guessed they’d soon find out.

 

**

Sarah’s campaign to win Craig back went on for a long time, longer than he would have expected from the impatient Sarah, but that she wanted him, wanted him badly became very clear.

And she was subtle, again surprising him with the manner and stealth of her ‘attack’. She became Craig’s ‘friend’, regarding herself as no more important to him than Hannah – or John Paul – just a friend. And it worked, of course – Craig certainly wanted her as a friend and instead of avoiding her he included her in the outings they all took together – all mates together.

 

**

 

Craig didn’t stay over anymore and since they were no longer at school every day didn’t see each other so often.

They still spoke on the phone every night, however.

Craig insisted that there was no chance of him getting back with her. He didn’t say it was because he was with John Paul – far as John Paul knew he wasn’t – just made a point of letting him know there wasn’t a snowball in hell’s chance of them getting back together.

He missed him of course – one day making love to him and he was addicted – but knew that it wasn’t up to him. Craig clearly needed time. He wouldn’t mess him about – if he just wanted to go back to being mates he’d say so. They had sort of gone back to that anyway. He hadn’t even touched him, not for weeks.

They were due to meet the Soccer camp guys in Manchester on the 4th of June and that would be the only time they’d have been alone for about 3 weeks.

He still felt really close to Craig, but missed him, missed him in the room, in the bed – although it had only happened the once. It had felt so natural with Craig, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d fucked Hannah several times but giving head to Craig had made him come harder than *any* of the times with her.

He would just have to get used to not ever going there again.

Being friends with him had always been enough.

Still was.

 

**

 

Sarah had been offered a possible contract with this magazine – Ripple – been invited on a photo shoot in Manchester on...the 4th of June.

When he learned this from Craig of all people (was Sarah trying to remind him just how desirable she was – model girlfriend – what bloke in his right mind could turn his back on that?) he gave an inward groan. “Oh well done. Is Hannah going with her?”

 

“Think so mate.” Brief silence. “You and Hannah still on then?”  
“Craig, it’s been ages since I slept with her – it’s like we’re 13 year olds or something. We don’t have sex – it’s a ...marriage... in name only.”

“A marriage of convenience?”

“I dunno, doesn’t feel very convenient.”

“You going on with it then.”

“Craig, I don’t know – is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

“Well you don’t love her, don’t even fancy her, you’re gay, you want to be with me... How’s that for starters?”

“Do you want to be with me?”

There was a silence, a silence he just couldn’t read. But he was determined that he wouldn’t be the one to break it. He wasn’t letting him off answering the question - one way or another.

“John Paul.”

“What?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Okay, so let’s not do this then. Let’s stay mates. Okay?”

“That what you want?”

“No, I want to be with you – all the way - but I can’t force that, can I? I’m happy just being your mate. If you still want us to be.”

“Course I do.”

“Okay then – just mates.”

Another silence then: “Okay, just mates.”

“Well that wasn’t so hard now was it? Now we’ve got that sorted any chance of me actually seeing you? Bin a while.”

Craig snorted. “You sound like a girl.”

“Oh take that back.”

“No seriously really looking forward to this meeting on Monday. We’ll know exactly what we’re doing. Can’t wait.”

“Me either. Craig.”

“Yeah?”

“This soccer camp thing – still alright for that?”

“How’d you mean?”

“Well I sort of made it clear we’d share a room... I mean it may not be too late to get separate rooms or bunk in with some other blokes.”

Now he could read Craig’s silence. He was pissed. “So all this about just being mates was just a load of bullshit then.”

“No, I- Craig I just- I just don’t want things to be weird between us.”

“You’re my best mate, I’m straight, I’ve had my tongue down your throat, your cock in my fist – how much fucking weirder can it get?”

“Good point.”  
“John Paul okay, since you’re not ready to be honest with me I’ll be honest with you. I don’t think we can be mates anymore. The reason I’ve been avoiding you, not stopping over is because I want you. I want you all the fucking time, think about that evening, how good it felt, how much more I want to do with you, to you, and I don’t really know that I’m ready to change everything I’ve ever thought I was, everything I always felt I would be. I got used to fancying you, thought I’d be able to handle it, but after having sex with you, John Paul, I know that I can’t handle it – it’s too big. It doesn’t feel like going out with someone – it’s bigger than that and a part of me is absolutely fucking terrified of getting in any deeper, but the truth is I can’t stay away from you. I talk to you every night on the phone then wank to the memory of your voice. How sick is that? John Paul, I am fucking drowning and I need you to either jump in with or pull me out.”

“I can’t pull you out. I’m drowning too.”

“Then I guess we’re in the deep end – together.”

“When I don’t panic I’m actually a pretty decent swimmer.”

“When I don’t panic I am too.”

**

 

Craig came over the next day and stayed all weekend, greeted like a long lost son by his mum and sisters – not Mercy or Jacqui of course, but he would have keeled over in a dead faint if either of them had reacted any differently.

They didn’t dislike him – they were just too cool to be ...enthused.

They had sex as quietly as possible, stifling giggles as a particularly potent groan escaped John Paul’s lips as Craig went down on him for the first time, listening for the sound of doors being wrenched open, fists banging on doors or worse, the creak of floorboards as a covert creeping and listening at keyholes took place. He knew that some of them had listened for the sound of him wanking when he was younger – the stifled giggles giving the bitches away. He’d become really, really paranoid and saved his nocturnal adventures for late in the night when he knew they’d mostly be asleep. Or early in the morning – quite a favourite time for him – when he didn’t have to get up for school.

Craig stayed with him for a few hours in the bed, but they were always careful to make sure he was back on the mattress at some point during the night.

The sex was mind-blowing, completely addictive.

He couldn’t wait for a time when they’d be all by themselves, free to really let themselves go...

 

**

 

Well luckily for them their meeting took place at the opposite time of day and the other side of town to the photo shoot.

The girls had tried to persuade them to stick around – all day – meet up later. They’d said that they expected to make a few contacts at the meeting and couldn’t say what might happen – they had to keep their agenda pretty open...

Hannah had come round on the Sunday, clearly looking for some lovin’ and had been a little put out to see Craig, metaphorical feet under metaphorical table, having a laugh with Carm and his mum.

She’d stayed for a while gesturing significantly with her eyes then just come out and asked him to go upstairs with her.

He’d seen Craig’s eyes flash a warning but he didn’t know how to get out of it without humiliating her even more than she’d just humiliated herself.

Upstairs, he’d kissed her for a bit, knowing he was doing the absolute wrong, wrong thing. But there was nothing else for it.

He told her as gently as he could that he wanted to finish with her, that he didn’t see any future in the relationship; that he was going away to college and he didn’t see them continuing when that happened.

She’d made a godawful fuss – of course she had – and when he’d finally lost his temper she’d gone running down the stars in floods of tears.

His mum and Carm were on his doorstep the next minute, first grilling him then offering sympathy, his mum saying that Hannah was a nice girl, but a bit wet, maybe he should get someone with a bit more life in them next time.

He felt like saying that he had someone with plenty of life in him, but refrained.

Later, in bed Craig said: “About fucking time.”

 

 

PART THREE

 

JUNE:

Sarah had given up the win back Craig campaign. She was seeing one of the models she’d met on a shoot – some tosser called Evan.

She’d made a point of parading him in front of Craig, but when Craig’s indifference had become apparent – even to her – she’d given it up.

They made a good couple – both in the business, both obsessed with the way they looked. He hoped they’d be very happy together.

Hannah had attempted to do something similar, started seeing someone she’d met in Manchester, insisted on bringing him to the dog, watching John Paul from the corner of her eye as she giggled, canoodled with him.

Craig had rolled his eyes, said: “Good luck, mate” and left him to it.

He’d stayed for as long as he could stand it then went up to Craig’s to get away from those enormous eyes following him around the pub.

Hannah too seemed to eventually get the message and started blanking him - both of them – in the street.

Well, he guessed it could now be clearly stated without fear of contradiction that he and Craig were no longer friends with Hannah and Sarah.

**

They’d got a firm date for the soccer camp, a huge pile of brochures and a few dvds illustrating ‘camp life’.

He didn’t need to ask Craig how he felt – he was sure each could serve as a mirror to the other, the excitement making eyes shine and smiles linger.

They’d even seen their bloody room! Enormous: twin beds, wardrobes and washbasins and a fantastic view. They hugged each other in glee, not daring to kiss in case it got out of hand – the way it usually did.

They were sleeping together regularly now – every time Craig stayed over – and John Paul was aware that there was a danger of them getting careless. He had to actively stop himself grabbing Craig round the waist when he was washing up or making tea, kissing him the way he did when they were alone together. He could tell by Craig’s body language sometimes that he too was finding it hard to remember that since they were just mates certain gestures might be deemed just a tad...inappropriate.

**

A week before his final exam, before he and Craig were due to leave for the US John Paul came down the stairs, walked to the kitchen and stood there for a while, watching his mum tidy up.

“Er...there’s a double bed in my room.”

“Do you like it?”

“Well yeah.” He waited, but when all he got was her back and a shrug... “Must have cost a bit.”

“Yeah it did and I expect you and Craig to pay me back.”  
“Okay,” he said, dazed. Still in a daze he went back upstairs.

She came in a little later with a tray – tea and his favourite biscuits.

They had a long talk.

Craig was phoned, told to get his butt over there and, in turn, subjected to the talk.

Apparently she’d walked into John Paul’s room one night –well early morning, really - with Craig’s clothes from the washer and seen them in bed together. “Oh don’t fret you were both covered up... Don’t worry, Craig, I’ve *eaten* bigger sausages than you’ve got” and put two and two together. “I knew there were a reason I felt so drawn to you, Craig. Now I’m not gonna pretend I guessed your relationship was like...that...and mebbe if it wasn’t Craig you were playing hide the sausage with... but I can’t lie - I think of you like a son, I do and if you’re going to be me next son-in-law well you can see this bed as a welcome to the family present...”

Craig had been dazed, unable to speak even after she left and John Paul had had to kiss him back into sensibility.

They lay together on the bed, cuddling, but Craig was unusually subdued.

“What is it?” John Paul stroked the dark hair back from the small neat ear then bent and kissed the ear.

“My family: they’re not going to be anything like yours. John Paul I’m dreading it.”

John Paul hugged him close. “It’ll be alright.”

But they both knew it wouldn’t be.  
**

 

Well, looked like he wouldn’t be walking Mercedes down the aisle any time soon. He’d really thought she and Russ would make it. Oh he couldn’t lie – he thought any man who took on Mercedes had a death wish, but he’d made her happy so it was a shame they wouldn’t be tying the knot, but at least Tina was still planning to make an honest man of Dom. And Dom would never cheat on her, wouldn’t cheat on anyone – that was a cast iron guarantee.

He and Craig had got their tickets sorted, everything sorted and could hardly concentrate on the last exam they had the following Friday, their attempts at revision dissolving into yet another ‘shall we watch the dvd again?” fiasco.

On the Saturday Craig threw a booklet at him. It was a prospectus – for TCD.

He stared at him.

“Apply.”

He applied.

And both of them got deadly serious about revision.

 

**

 

He’d asked his mum not to tell the rest of the family about him and Craig. She hadn’t been happy but understood when he explained that Craig hadn’t told his family yet, was waiting until they came back from the states. “Oh his mum for all she’s a hard faced cow – if she’s any sort of mum she’ll stand by him. I’m not going to pretend that I wouldn’t have wished for something different for you, son, but don’t take that to heart – I would have wanted something different for all me kids – I think all mums do. You know how I feel about Craig and that makes a difference. He makes you happy that’s obvious and though I worry about you when you start getting all that haemophobia gay bashing I trust him with you, son. And don’t tell the others but he’s the only one of me sons-in-law I can hand-on-heart say that about. Oh Dom, well he’s a sly one – got to watch out for the quiet ones – mark my words...”

She’d promised to keep it to herself and when he told Craig saw the weight visibly drop from him. John Paul hadn’t realised how much that had been playing on his mind until he’d managed to prize it out of him the day before.

But he didn’t want anything but fun, fun on Craig’s mind come next weekend.

He couldn’t bloody wait to get him in the sun, breeze ruffling his hair – gorgeous, absolutely stunningly gorgeous...

 

**

“John Paul, I don’t believe...how much did that set you back?”

“You’re not serious.”

“But it must have cost a bomb.”

“Definitely not,” he said drily.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Like you.”

Craig had said nothing for a while then asked quietly if it was alright if he came over later.

John Paul had resisted the urge to give the obvious exasperated response and said yeah he’d like that.

When he’d arrived later that evening Craig had been astonished to be greeted by a huge cake and a small McQueen celebration – read loud music, huge buffet and the contents of a small brewery – in honour of his birthday.

He’d smiled and joined in with all the fun and laughter, but later John Paul had allowed him a few minutes before following him upstairs, caught him crying in their room.

He held him until he subsided, fetched a flannel and cleaned him up then brought him downstairs and danced with him – not slow dancing, just dancing like two mates, but he suspected that Craig knew full well that it was for his sake that John Paul was holding back, knew that the next opportunity they had John Paul would take him in his arms and dance every slow dance with him.

 

**

Craig was drifting more and more away from his family.

That’s what was making him so blue.

He told John Paul later that he didn’t even properly know how he felt about that – still desperately wanted to get away, still loved them so, so much. But he felt stifled being at home, felt so much more at home right here with John Paul and his family.

“It’s not a competition, Craig. No-one will ever take the place of your family – it’s just that sometimes you get so familiar, so entangled that a change of scenery becomes necessary and often actually makes you appreciate them that much more. You must know how happy it makes me to know just how comfortable you feel here, but I hate the thought of you being on the outs with your family –“

“I’m not really. It’s just I sometimes think they don’t understand a thing about me, that they don’t even really know me, still see me as a 14 year old. I can’t imagine my mum being so cool about me sleeping with another bloke, actually going out and buying us a bed? Never.”

“She might surprise you. If you give her a chance.”

“No, I know her, John Paul – she’s all about appearances and she dotes on me, expects so much from me.”

“Mum’s the same with me.”

“No but she’d still be okay with you if you failed wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“See that’s the thing, I’m not sure mum would be.”

They hadn’t spoken any more about it, drifted into sleep, but John Paul was determined that Craig wouldn’t lose his family nor spend all his time in the States fretting about what he was going to tell them about him and John Paul.

**

 

Craig used the mega expensive pen John Paul had bought him for his birthday in his English exam. Waiting to catch John Paul’s eye he’d kissed the pen then grinned and started writing.  
Well he hoped that would give Craig all the luck necessary to pass this with flying colours.

Having read through the questions he knew that he had this one well and truly sorted. From Craig’s demeanor he did too.

He’d occasionally glance up, searching for the right word and catch Craig staring at him, smiling sheepishly when he was nabbed.

Well he hadn’t realised you could write several essays in the space of a couple of hours whilst walking on cloud nine, but apparently you could.

 

**

The girls made a point of absolutely blanking them both.

They didn’t care: last exam down and tomorrow they were flying to Boston.

 

**

Jake drove John Paul, Craig, Myra, Frankie and Carmel to the airport. He’d been so relieved when he’d seen that Carmel had changed her mind about coming. He knew that their sons would act as a buffer between the two women, but also knew that once John Paul and Craig were on that plane and they were alone in that car all bets would surely be off. Frankie would annoy his mum and she would say something cutting about Frankie’s shortcomings as a parent and then Craig’s secret would be secret no longer.

As it was both women tried to outdo the other in the fervour and manner of their goodbyes.  
It was with a great deal of relief that they said their final goodbyes and made their way to the plane.

This was the first time flying for him but Craig was an old hand – or so he put it – and promised to hold his hand for him.

John Paul asked if he’d also hold his hair out of his face for him whilst he was bringing up his breakfast. Craig’s expression gave him he answer he needed.

Note to self: never get sick.

After the initial excitement of being up in the air, excitedly staring out the window, exclaiming – in a quiet voice (he’d been TOLD) – to Craig he’d felt the drowsiness take him and fell asleep on Craig’s shoulder.

When he awoke, Craig’s head was against his, mouth close enough to kiss, breathing light and quiet (Craig wasn’t a snorer) and without thinking he planted a very gentle kiss on the slightly open mouth. Craig’s eyes opened and when they recognised John Paul became soft and unless John Paul was imagining it a little aroused too. “Mmmmm,” he said, moving closer.

John Paul ambushed the hand heading for his crotch, coughed meaningfully.

Looking around Craig seemed to clock his surroundings and sat up straight, adjusted his position in the seat. “What time is it? We nearly there?”

“Yeah, there was an announcement a minute ago.” He grinned hugely. “We’re there, landing in a few.”

Craig looked at him; he looked at Craig, then they giggled like schoolboys and hugged each other.

**

They’d been met at the airport and then taken on what felt like a long, long journey to the camp.

The landscape was absolutely stunning and there was just so much of it. They didn’t speak to each other, totally captivated by the view.

The camp was absolutely enormous and run with military precision, but not military rules or atmosphere. Everyone they met was friendly, greeting them first and seeming to actually sincerely mean the ‘pleased to meet you’, a phrase with which they became very familiar.

They were allowed to deposit their luggage in their room before being taken on an induction that lasted most of the day – breaks for meals were included. Well there were rules – strict rules – about conduct and the like – only natural: they were dealing with young people after all – but nothing too onerous.

From 8.a.m to 6.pm each weekday and every second Saturday they were employees of the camp. Between those hours they were free to do as they pleased.

Minibuses were laid on to take campers into Boston and there seemed to be a very efficient system where buses were booked in advance either for night-time entertainment or to go sightseeing during the day.

John Paul didn’t know what he was most looking forward to – putting his newly minted skills into practice or just being Tommy Tourist for four weeks.

**

“Did you take all that in?”  
“Well we’ve go the rule book to consult if we get a little hairy. God how firm is this mattress. No that was not a hint.” He laughed as Craig pressed him into said mattress. “Mmmm. Miss you.”

“Me too. Can’t wait.” He was kissing John Paul’s face and neck.

“Me either. Been looking forward to it for weeks.”

“I’ll make it good for you.”

“I know you will – you always make it good for me.”

“And if it hurts I want you to tell me to stop.”

“I know.” He kissed him. “I know.”

“You haven’t said you will.”

“I know.”

“John Paul.” He tried to look stern.

John Paul kissed the stern expression right off his face.

**

They agreed to leave it a few days – John Paul said something about not wanting to turn up on his first day limping – but made up for it by the fervour of their lovemaking.

They knew precisely how to please each other now and had taken to teasing, delaying gratification, just for that added extra bit of spice.  
It had taken Craig a while to get his head around the giving head to another bloke thing, but it was John Paul and he’d found that he actually wanted to suck his cock.

Now, according to John Paul, he was one of the ‘most talented cocksuckers on the planet’

**

Well okay it was the result of prejudice and stereotyping, but he’d honestly expected the kids to be complete brats. They weren’t, they were the politest, most respectful bunch of kids he’d ever come across and they were absolutely fascinated by his and Craig’s accents, all of them, especially the girls, often just standing there staring whenever they spoke or gave instructions.

Some of the boys seemed to think that Craig was a famous footballer and kept asking him if he’d played for Manchester United or ‘Totten –ham Hotspurs’. This had led to a long debate about the relative merits of several big football clubs, which they’d tried to keep clean and verbal only (rather than physical) for the sake of the kiddies.

The game of football – and its various exponents - was the one subject they could still come to blows over.

 

**

 

The food was delicious and came in generous portions.

Craig was in seventh heaven.

 

**  
Well he’d seen the brochures with the fabulous looking guys and gals, but hadn’t really actually thought about women being a big part of this endeavour until he’d clocked a gaggle of them, in shorts - tanned and gorgeous - doing tricks for a group of goggle-eyed youngsters. When he saw Craig staring he felt his heart sink.

He just hadn’t given this nearly enough thought at all. Of course there were going to be women – Craig was still straight, his instincts still that of a straight man.

Well he wasn’t going to mind – this was a part of their lives now – Craig still wanting to be with women. He’d just accept it.

When Craig had suggested they go over he’d pleaded disinterest, said he’d catch him later.

He watched with painful intent as Craig ran off to join the group, but then furious with himself, went in search of entertainment of his own.

**

Well he could let this fester or he could get it out in the open, get it aired.

Craig was washing his face at his washbasin.

John Paul watched him, watched his face in the mirror.

When he was drying off he said. “I don’t mind, you know.”

“Mind what?”

“You still wanting to be with women.”

He saw him frown. “You what?”  
“I know that it’s sort of ...unnatural...for you to be with me and if you want to – now and again - I mean I won’t stop you.”

“Won’t stop me what?” He’d turned to face him now, back against the sink, towel in hand.

“Look Craig, I’d never stop you doing what you want – that goes for everything, not just this. I’m not the jealous type – I mean, I wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re still not telling me what exactly you wouldn’t mind, John Paul. Spit it out. What exactly wouldn’t you fucking mind?”

“Craig, what are you getting so uptight about? I’m telling you that it’s okay if you sleep with women.”

“You’re giving me permission? Well guess what? I don’t need your fucking permission.” He snapped the towel against the sink. “You going to send me out every day with a packed lunch too?”

“Craig, for-“

“So what, you see me talking to a group of women and you think I’m going to be sneaking behind your back and fucking them? That’s what this is isn’t it – you making a pre-emptive strike so that when I come and tell you I just slept with some bitch you’ll be okay with it?” He turned and punched the wall beside the mirror. “You fucking, fucking bastard! You fucking bastard.” There were tears standing in his eyes, tears of pain and fury. “You’re with me, why? Why the fuck are you with me? You don’t fucking *trust* me. Don’t fucking touch me!” He was heading for the door, wheeling away from John Paul’s abortive attempt to hold him. “Okay I’ll say it okay? I love you, love you, love you!” His voice was a loud screech, a dissonant counterpoint to the words he was saying. “And you are the only bastard who ever makes me fucking cry. I fucking hate you.” This last was said with quiet, weary resignation as though he’d reached the end of whatever rope he’d been holding on to.

John Paul stood watching the door for ages, stunned into immobility, pummelled into indecision. His instinct was to run after him, find him, make everything alright, but his head told him that this would be disastrous. He’d wounded Craig and he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t a fatal cut, one that would fester and eventually send its poison into the blood, to the heart – kill him, kill them both.

How had he read it so wrong? He’d thought that he was doing the right thing letting Craig know that it was okay to still want to sleep with women, that he wouldn’t put restrictions on him.

Instead he’d made him cry.

How could he have done that, hurt him so badly, this man who was everything to him, for whom he’d insert a knife into his own heart if that were necessary to keep him happy?

He stayed there on his bed, spurning dinner, anxiously waiting Craig’s return, praying that he hadn’t done what John Paul had so foolishly given him permission to do.

**

Craig returned four hours later, opening the door quietly, trying to creep unnoticed to his bed.

John Paul turned on the light and he spun round, unsteady on his feet. He’d been drinking.

John Paul got out of bed, put both arms around him, fell with him on to the bed, kissed him: every inch of his face, his ears, his neck, his fingers, the palms of his hands, the pulse points at his wrist.  
Craig began to cry.

**

John Paul undressed him, kissing every inch of skin revealed, put both hands under his buttocks and licked him from head to root. Craig’s ankles were locked around his waist, fingers deep in his hair. He timed it to the second, not wanting him anywhere near coming, just primed, ready for a long session. The alcohol he’d drunk was certainly not proving any sort of impediment to performance.

He got the lube and prepared himself carefully, looking him in the eye the whole time, making his intent crystal clear.

The teeth in the bottom lip was a sure sign of real arousal – like there weren’t plenty of other signs – and one of the ones he loved the most.

They’d included quite a bit of arseplay in their lovemaking so neither of them were exactly virgins when it came to having that territory breached. It had taken a little longer for Craig to allow John Paul to put a finger in him, but he loved being rimmed so it had really only been a matter of time before he demanded a finger, then two and then a vibrator.

He loved the vibrator.

They’d both agreed that John Paul would be the first on the bottom – he’d insisted and Craig hadn’t demurred.

They’d been planning it for weeks.

This wasn’t a part of the plan.

But John Paul knew that the time had come – this was the right time.  
He adjusted Craig’s position, made him move all the way up on the bed, lie flat on his back.

John Paul took Craig’s cock in his hand, slipping on the condom with quick efficiency then rubbed a generous handful of lube up then down the shaft, once again being careful to maintain eye contact.

Positioning himself he slowly, slowly worked the hard cock inside him, adjusting his breath, his position until it was fully seated inside, the fine hairs on Craig’s thighs brushing the underside of his thighs. He moved experimentally, gasping as the cock moved inside him.

Craig stroked his arms and sides in sympathy.

“No,” he said. “It feels good. Just give me a sec.”

Well more than a sec – it felt so good he didn’t particularly want to move.

He started a slow side to side motion and then a slower up and down.

Craig gasped, made a sound of pleasure and satisfaction.

“Yeah.” He made the same movement, elicited the same sound from him.

So this was what they meant by the bottom being in charge.

He began to ride him in earnest now, hardly noticing how much he was physically enjoying this, so intent was he on making it good for Craig.

“John Paul, god yeah, Oh god yeah, oh.”

Babbling – that was good. He slowed his tempo - just because he could - and felt a certain amount of satisfaction when Craig’s fingers dug into his sides. He laughed. “What? Want me to speed it up?”

“Bastard. “ He was trying to thrust, but didn’t have the purchase to make a good fist of it.

John Paul leant down, kissed him with plenty of tongue. “I’m in charge.” So saying he ‘disengaged’. His arse was already feeling weird he’d got so accustomed to the feel of Craig’s cock there.

He laughed again at the horror on Craig’s face. “Sit up.”

He made a production of crawling up the bed to him, on all fours he kissed him, demanding his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, asking Craig to do the same. He climbed on top, felt Craig’s hands automatically clasp his waist trying to help him. He pulled out of the kiss, but the eye contact was almost better, staring into each other’s eyes as he once again centred himself on Craig’s cock.

“John Paul.”

“Me too.” He kissed him again, then changed position to a squat and began to fuck him really hard, both of them gasping at the heat, passion, pleasure of it.

He didn’t really know what he’d expected from their first fuck, but that didn’t matter now – this was their first fuck and he was sure that it was as passionate as any fantasy fuck either of them had imagined.

Craig had him by the hands, allowing John Paul’s grip to whiten the flesh at his wrists, teeth bared, groaning.

“Love you, Craig. Love you, love you.”  
He felt Craig’s cock stiffen, actually felt it, and put both arms around his neck, thrusting his tongue into Craig’s mouth as he convulsed, fingernails scrabbling at the flesh of John Paul’s back. He was trying to cry out, almost bucking John Paul off, every part of him in movement as he came. John Paul held on for dear life, hand moving furiously on his cock as he watched Craig’s face.

Thank god they’d made a habit of sheathing up ever since that first time in his lounge. He didn’t think Craig would have been too impressed to have come all over his chest, neck, face, *hair* which would most certainly have been the outcome had he not had a condom to take the load. It felt like it had been weeks since he’d come rather than a day or so.

Being fucked was a completely different sensation to anything else he’d felt and nice as the fingers and vibrators had been nothing could, would *ever* compare to the pleasure and satisfaction of being fucked by Craig.

He very much looked forward to seeing what Craig would do when he was ready to get on top and ‘fuck him into next week’ as he’d promised.

He was the first to recover and after kissing Craig’s slack mouth went to the washbasin, ran water, found a couple of wash clothes and carefully cleaned first Craig and then himself. He checked the sheets then crawled in beside him.

“Go to sleep.”

“Yeah.”

He seemed halfway there already. John Paul kissed his cheek, checked the alarm then snuggled up behind him....

 

**  
He woke to the sound of Craig’s electric toothbrush.

He was over by the sink, hair damp, white boxers hugging the contours of his arse, brushing his teeth.

John Paul moved, winced.

Craig turned to him. “Alright?”

“Well we’ll have a better idea about that when I try to walk.”

Craig finished up at the sink, came back to the bed. He smelled of aftershave and toothpaste. His hand was still a little wet but John Paul didn’t mind, didn’t mind the toothpaste kiss either. “Sorry.”

“About having a huge cock? Since when?” He had his hand in Craig’s damp hair, twining a strand around his finger.

“Good point.” John Paul was relieved to see the familiar grin. “Wasn’t exactly expecting that.”

“Me either. Wasn’t exactly planned.”

Craig rubbed noses with him. “Really enjoyed it.”

“Yeah? That’s news.”

“Shut up.” He kissed him – once, twice, mouth, nose. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah.” He made room for him in the bed. The clock told him they only had a few minutes, but no reason why they couldn’t make the most of it – they could talk and cuddle – nothing in any rule book he’d ever heard of that said they couldn’t do that. “I was a moron. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to be mature, modern, didn’t want you to think I was another Sarah imposing conditions on you, trying to make myself the centre of your world.”

“John Paul.”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t make yourself the centre of my world – she couldn’t and neither can you.”

“I know. I was just saying-“

“It’s not something you do – it’s something I do. You don’t have to make yourself the centre of my world – I’ve already done it for you.”

One of these days, one of these days he’d be able to control this leaky tap that had somehow replaced his tear ducts. Today was clearly not that day. “Craig...”

“John Paul, I’ve been hurt – Darlene practically destroyed me and I thought that was it, no-one could ever bring me that low again, but you have that power. She played me, used me and I was so in love with the idea of being in love that I just couldn’t, wouldn’t see her for what she was. It’s not like that with you – the complete opposite. I know it’s love because it feels mutual – it’s not just me giving and giving and feeling like I’ve made it cos I’m in love. It’s that we – me and you – we feel right: I feel like you’re part of me. And I know that you’d never hurt me on purpose but the fact is you’re the only person I know of who can take me apart with just a look. So I’m asking you not to, not to use your power over me - don’t break my heart. Promise me.”

“Craig, I would rather die.” He tightened the arms around Craig’s waist. “I wanted to die last night when I realised how much I’d hurt you. Craig I love you so much I think it makes me blind – you’re all I see, nothing else, no up or down, left or right – you fill my vision and all I can think of is ‘how do I make him happy? How do I give him everything he wants?’ I think it’s the not seeing the big picture that makes me such a fucking blind idiot. I just wanted to give you what you wanted.”

“You’re what I want – only you; you on toast, unfiltered, unadulterated – for brekky, lunch, dinner and as a late night snack too. Especially as a late night snack.” He pressed his arse into John Paul’s groin. “You getting the picture?”

“Not sure. Maybe if you could ...illustrate... your point...”

 

**

Craig told him that though he wasn’t exactly calling himself gay he definitely wasn’t calling himself straight either, confessed that he’d been on several gay sites – ‘just to get some tips. Well I didn’t know one end of an arsehole from –‘ - and hadn’t ‘exactly been turned off’.

John Paul resisted the urge to tease him about this, especially the blush that accompanied it and confided that he hardly knew any more than Craig himself and he was calling himself gay.

They hadn’t talked much about the women issue. Craig was still a little sore on that point saying that it was like comparing him to a dog who’d leap on the first flea ridden bitch that came sniffing her way around him. Insisted that there was nothing that women could offer him that could make him even think of giving up what he had for a fuck – ‘cos that’s all it would be, John Paul – a mindless, stupid fuck, nothing to do with love or lovemaking. That’s you – you’re where it’s at for me. I had it on tap with Sarah – didn’t want it. And the girls here know we’re a couple. Oh come on you think people don’t know?’

So that was that one down – now only the big one to go.  
He couldn’t help wondering if that would be the one that would break them.

**

The Friday of the first week he received a telegram from Myra.

 

**

 

“But I haven’t even got a suit!”

“We’ll sort something out. Look Craig, they’ve paid for us to be there – both of us – so trust me they’ll sort you out a bloody suit.”

“We’re gonna be knackered, mate.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll have bags under my eyes that’ll scare the guests.”

John Paul blew a raspberry on his forehead and dodged the swipe, laughing. “You’ll look beautiful to me, darling.”

“Call me that again and I’ll separate you from your dick.”

“Well as empty threats go that must be in the top 3. You could no more live without my dick than I could live without yours.”

“Shut up.”

“I rest my case.”

 

**  
The camp authorities had been very understanding – so long as they were back to take their first session on Monday afternoon they were welcome to fly to the UK for John Paul’s family celebration. They’d had a lot of questions about the wedding and to Craig’s utter glee he’d produced a series of photos, pointing out which of his sisters were getting married. He heard the whistles when they saw the photo of Mercedes and the interested looks at sent his way when they saw Tina.

They’d become a very interesting couple all of a sudden – the number and variety of sisters causing a mini sensation. He could see looks shot Craig’s way, probably trying to place him in the family – his colouring probably being compared with Mercedes.

He ribbed poor John Paul mercilessly when they reached the privacy of their room – he carried photos of his mum and sisters in his wallet?

Well a fight had ensued followed by an energetic, very satisfying 69.

God they were getting so predictable – fight then sex - but was anyone really complaining?

 

**

Frankie of all people had come up with the suit for Craig. She was there when they arrived late on the Wednesday, a garment bag beside her. She wasn’t sitting. The lounge was a flurry of activity, full to the brim with bodies, but he sensed that it wasn’t lack of seating that was the cause of her standing there, surveying it all, nose in the air.  
She fell on Craig like a mother hen who’d lost sight of her chick, fully aware that there was a fox prowling the neighbourhood.

“Oh look at you love, already got a tan. What’s it been, a week and a bit? You’re just like your dad, all he had to do was see a bit of sun and he’d be brown as a nut. You been eating properly?”

“Mum!”

John Paul moved away – she’d blanked him completely, par for the course really, but he didn’t want Craig to have to address it.

He was giving his sisters away day after tomorrow and as far as he was concerned that was a very special occasion which no sour faced cow was going to spoil.

He wasn’t surprised when Craig came to him later, (exchanging warm hugs and kisses with his mum and sisters) and told him he was staying at the Dog, hoped to see him tomorrow – if he wasn’t too busy.

John Paul glanced at the impatiently waiting Frankie and smiled. “I want to see that suit – don’t want anyone making a show at my sisters’ wedding by turning up looking like a dog’s dinner.”

“Shut up.”

He left soon after, quick intense look at John Paul before closing the door behind him.

His mum gave him a hug then told him to go try on his suit.

**

He hadn’t been able to get anywhere near Craig all the following day, only able to speak to him on the phone. Frankie was keeping him on a tight leash, playing the guilt card and Craig wasn’t prepared to make a fuss – it was only or a few days, not like they could really be together properly anyway.

“But I just want to see you, hold you, Craig. That’s more than enough for me, you know that.”

“Me too, but she misses me so much, feels that I spend too much time over yours, says she’ll be losing me soon enough, can’t I spend some time with them now?”

Well he supposed she had a point. “She’s right. I just miss you. So, so much.”

“I know, but by Saturday we’ll be back at the camp – two more weeks together – just me and you.”

Yeah that was a point – he hadn’t fucked Craig yet.

 

**

 

Oh well was that typical or what? There’d been no possibility of that going off without a hitch really though had there?

McQueens + wedding = drama

Well at least they’d actually got them married off.

And Craig had been there looking incredible in a black suit, a slightly...was that like a light apricot... coloured shirt... and designer tie. Well up herself bitch Frankie Osbourne may have been but she knew damn well what suited her gorgeous son.  
He could hardly keep his hands off him and had to pick up a couple of drinks to keep them occupied.

“You made it then.”

“You clean up nicely. Love the white satin, darling.”

“Shut up.”

They found their way to the bridge; still no privacy, but at least they weren’t surrounded by family and aunties. (He could tell that Craig hadn’t had even the slightest notion of the larger than life embarrassing horror of Auntie Sharon until he’d been confronted by her at the reception. She’d had a sizeable sum left her by her ‘old man’ and had gifted that to Myra to pay for the return tickets for him and Craig to come to the wedding. It was pretty damn obvious that she knew exactly who Craig was (Myra told her friend everything) but he knew that loud as she was if there were a secret he needed keeping she’d keep it. He’d been a little surprised he had to admit that she hadn’t actually told Craig to open his mouth and thence proceeded to examine his teeth. The way she was looking him over *that* had very much seemed the next logical step).

“That is pretty par for the course as far as McQueen celebrations go – loads of drama, lot of shouting the odds, women in high heels throwing punches.”

Craig snorted. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.”

“Every day, mate.”

They stood looking into the distance, lots to say: too much.

“I like the suit. And the shirt. Tie’s not bad either.”

He fingered it. “I chose the tie.”  
“Nice.”

“We need to get away, John Paul.”

“Yeah.” Coming back to the madhouse, the overflowing madhouse, Frankie’s monopolising of Craig, tiptoe-ing around stuff, having to snatch moments... Yeah a week away had certainly brought home to him just how unsatisfying all this was.

“You heard from Trinity?”

“Not yet. I did apply late.”

“A month ago – not that late. It’s too late now, but I’m going to phone them when we-“

“Craig, they’ll be in touch. I’ve asked mum to let me know the minute the letter arrives – she’ll open it and tell me they’ve sent a provisional offer.” He gave him a one armed hug, took a chance and laid a soft kiss in his hair. “Stop fretting.”

“If you don’t get in we’ll apply somewhere else.”

“I’ll get in.”

 

**

The first thing they did when they arrived back at the camp the next day was fuck. John Paul was still on the bottom, but Craig was in complete control this time, orchestrating the rhythm, hitting his prostate when he wanted to, avoiding it when he wanted - just because he could...

He cleaned them up this time, a soft thank you kiss planted in the middle of John Paul’s chest.  
“When it’s your turn I am so going to make you pay.” If only he could actually make that sound like a threat.

Craig’s wink assured him that as empty threats went that one was definitely in the top 3.

 

**

 

The letter from Trinity offering him a place on the attainment of the appropriate grades arrived a week later, his mum stumbling over the dry academic language. “That’s good, right, son?”

Craig had been ecstatic, offered his arse there and then.

Since they were due back out on the field in less than ten minutes he said thanks for the offer, but he wasn’t looking for a quickie. “We’re looking at candles, soft music – all night long,” he whispered in his ear.

“You trying to make me feel bad cos I just put you on your face and fucked you?”

John Paul had to laugh at this so inaccurate and inadequate description of what Craig had done to him when he’d fucked him. “Yeah Craig – I’m trying to make you feel bad.”

**

“So, worth it?”

“What do you think?”

They were on their way back to Chester in a taxi. Their flight had been delayed but then they’d unexpectedly got another flight so no-one was expecting them until tomorrow.  
It was 1.a.m and he expected the McQueen household to be abed. Craig was staying over because well... just because.

He really wanted to get in with as little noise as possible. It was unlikely but he wanted them to go undetected tonight if at all possible.

“I’m really glad we did it.”

John Paul took his hand. “Me too. Being with you, working and playing with you... Craig I am so in love with you – this holiday has only made me realise just how fucking much.”

“Me too. I am made up you got into Trinity.”

“Hold your horses; we’ve got to get the results first.”

“And when we get them we’ll see that we both sailed it. Tell me you don’t feel it in your water, John Paul – we’re going to be together.”

No, he couldn’t say he didn’t feel it in his water – he knew it too – they were going to be together. The way it felt right now, probably for life.

Wasn’t going to share *that* little titbit with Craig, though.

 

**

Well it had honestly been just a little too much to expect that their luck would hold: the entire fucking brood were downstairs watching some stupid dvd!

They fell on him, demanding presents etc – kisses from everyone but Alek – and not even a glance askance at Craig; in fact his bags were also being raided for presents. “He’s got more taste than you, John Paul,” this according to Michaela who as far as he was aware hadn’t yet had a good word to say about Craig.

Eventually his mum had pulled them off him and Craig, then sat them down and grilled them for ah hour on America...

 

**

 

Craig threw himself backwards onto the bed. “Am I sweating? I feel that I should be sweating. How the heck are we supposed to know what San Francisco’s like? And New York, Las Vegas? Does she think we went on a tour or something?”

John Paul started undressing. “No idea, mate, but I’d use the bathroom before they come up.” He caught Craig by the arm as he was hurrying past. “Hold on.”

“What?”

He kissed him. “Just that.”

“You soppy git.”

“That’s me.”

 

**

 

His mum had had a lock fitted to his door. Amazing – she was almost fanatical about this – something about not being ale to get out n a fire – and had never allowed a lock on anything except the bathroom door.

He knew that it was for Craig, to keep his secret just a little longer.

He made her breakfast in bed, kissed and hugged her. When she protested, asked him what was going on he kissed her again and simply said: I love you” and left it at that.

He knew she’d know why.

 

**

Craig was chafing at the bit to tell his mum about them – her constant harping on about the McQueens and how come he had to stay over all the time was driving him mad. He needed her to know about their relationship; understand that he was in love with John Paul, sleeping with him, and that’s why he had to be with him – not because he didn’t want to be at home, but because he needed to be with his lover.

John Paul advised him to stick to their original plan: wait for the exam results before coming out to both families. It was only a few days after all.

Craig reluctantly agreed.

John Paul was worried though, had to admit that. He had a feeling that coming out for Craig was going to be extremely traumatic.

Jake had made a couple of off colour remarks while they were travelling to and fro from Chester to Liverpool that made his homophobia quite clear.

And Darren: well Craig didn’t exactly give a stuff about him, but he had a way of making an already surely-couldn’t-get-any-worse situation --- much, much worse.

Jack seemed a decent enough bloke but he was an ex copper, bit old fashioned – was bound to have equally old-fashioned views on homosexuality.

He wasn’t sure about Steph – he’d heard that she had a reputation as a bit of a bitch and though Craig stood up for her he also took the piss out of her – a lot. So not at all sure what to expect from that quarter.

And Frankie. She loved Craig - doted on him for sure - but she was also a grade A bitch and he was sure she’d have a lot to say for herself on the subject of the McQueens infecting her offspring...

All in all Craig seemed to be a little... challenged... when it came to having people fighting his corner – well if you didn’t count him and the entire McQueen clan, including ‘Aunties’.

They’d stand by him, keep him from drowning but that wasn’t the same as having your own family on side.

He prayed to god that he’d misjudged Frankie and the others, that his mum’s instinct was right; that Frankie’s love for Craig would win out against any anger and disappointment.

 

**

 

The Wednesday before the exam results were due his mum called him down, said there was someone there to see him.

He could tell by her voice that it was an unexpected, possibly unwelcome visitor.

Well fuck that: Jack Osbourne was accepting a cup of coffee with a quip and a smile, looking completely relaxed on the sofa in his lounge. Craig’s step dad was in his lounge. “Er hello Mr. Osbourne.”

“Oh none of that laddie. Jack –good enough for my friends, good enough for you.”

He gave a strained smile, locked eyes with his mum. No bloody idea, she seemed to be saying. “Nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, John Paul.” He gave him a quick once over. “You want to put some shoes on – or those trainers you kids love so much? In my day we wouldn’t be let out the house without a shirt and tie and shoes shone so bright you could see your face in them, eh Myra?”

“I were born in the mid sixties.”

He rolled his eyes: way to be tactful mum. Jack seemed to find this very amusing. “Oh no offence Myra, it’s me: at my age I get eras muddled up. I was thinking we could go for a bit of a spin, John Paul.”

“I’ll get some ...footwear.”

What the hell was going on? A spin? And what, accidentally crash, the passenger side bearing the brunt of the trauma? Clearly this was about Craig – had he spilled the beans early and now Jack, acting as Frankie’s attack dog, was here to warn him off?

Well whatever; clearly he was in for an unpleasant ‘spin’. Best get it over.  
Jack was still being very pleasant, confusing his mum. Obviously she knew that this was about Craig and sensed too that her boy was about to be warned off and all her maternal instincts were on alert. Yet Jack was being charm personified, giving absolutely no reason for her to be nasty. She actually looked a little relieved when John Paul came downstairs a few minutes later.

“Ah, here’s the young man himself.” Jack had risen, was handing his cup to Myra. “Lovely brew, ma’am. Look forward to more.”

He cut off his mum’s response by opening the front door: “See you in a minute, mum” and walking out, not giving her a chance to say anything rude or inappropriate as he knew she was bound to do.

He walked quickly to Jack’s car just wanting this over.

**

 

“Alone at last.” Jack said, strapping himself in. “Quick spin to the countryside – what do you say?”

Get on with it. “I’m easy.”

Did he see a little smirk there, a slight hesitation as though Jack were thinking better of a remark just on the tip of his tongue? “Okay, countryside it is then.”

They drove in silence for a little while. Jack was a skilled driver who instilled confidence in his passengers. John Paul began to wish that he’d been the one who’d driven them to Liverpool – might have saved himself a few grey hairs and a damaged heart. Jake was a reckless, reckless driver at times who, when it had become clear to him how much his passengers hated his risk taking, went all out to take unnecessary risks.

He was a good driver – just a fucking bastard too.

“So, John Paul. You’re a bright lad; you must know I didn’t come to your house just for your mum’s coffee– lovely as it is.”

“No.”

“Well you and Craig – I must confess it’s come as a bit of a surprise, son. Craig – well I’ve known young Craig for a few years and he’s always been girl mad, never seen him show the slightest bit of interest in another lad.”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“Hey, laddie, don’t get on your high horse. That wasn’t what I meant, not at all. I’m just trying to tell you why this has come as such a surprise.”

John Paul subsided, mollified by Jack’s mild tone. He could see why he’d been a policeman – that ability to pour oil on troubled waters, diffuse a potentially volatile situation. “I love him.”

Jack sighed. “Well I thought that was going to take longer – I filled the tank full of petrol thinking it would take us ages to get to the point, son.” He chuckled. “Rather fancied a drive.” He looked at John Paul. “In case you’re wondering, Craig didn’t tell me – he tells me you’ve made a pact or something to come out to your mums tomorrow – or after tomorrow – when you’ve got the exam results.”

“Yeah.”

“Well he hasn’t broken the pact – he didn’t come out to me. Well I suppose he did, but I had him cornered, lad – he had no choice.” He was facing the road, staring straight ahead. “Refused to deny you – that’s what it would have meant – him saying no to the question I asked him. He refused to do it – looked like a scared young rabbit, but he stood here, stood up to me and told me about you.”

His expression was hard for John Paul to read, but he sensed a little bit of pride here. “What was the question?”

“Was he in love with you?”

Oh. Okay. “Er...”

“Oh it was obvious, son. Seeing you two together – it was obvious.”

It was? “Erm...”

Jack laughed. “Yeah he looked a bit like that too – only a little more with the deer in the headlights eyes. Poor Craig. I did give him a hard time, but I had to be sure – sure he knew what he was taking on. But if it helps I’ve seen Craig think he’s in love before, seem him infatuated, seen him with the hots for a girl. This is the first time I’ve seen him in love. Lad I know what that looks like and Craig’s in love. I don’t know you so well, but I don’t need to – the way your eyes follow him around the room – I’d have to be blind not to see that the feeling is very mutual.”

John Paul felt himself blush. God and he’d thought – they’d both thought they’d been so discreet. “So you haven’t told Frankie?”

“Not up to me, son, but I’ll tell you what I told young Craig. You are both old enough to make your own decisions, your own mistakes. If it helps – I don’t think this is a mistake. It’s not what I’d have expected from Craig, but as I said I have never seen him in love before. I know he’s thought this through; he told me about all the doubt, the fears and how being with you made it all alright; that he was never going to give you up, that he’d walk away from us before giving you up. No, I didn’t think he’d tell you that. But John Paul I don’t want that – don’t want him to put you before his mum. No, son, I’m not asking you to step away; I’m asking you to help ensure we get the best of all worlds for Craig – you and his family.” He grinned. “How about that for Task of The Day?”

 

**

 

He’d told his mum the gist of it, told her he was calling a family meeting tomorrow evening.

“It’ll be alright son: they all know anyway.”

“What?”

“Well son they’re not daft. They all like him. We all like Craig. We’ll get a few beers in, celebrate you coming out of the closet.”

He rolled his eyes and said absolutely nothing.

 

**

 

“Well, trust me, he gave me a much harder time.”

 

“Well I imagine he would, but he’s cool.”  
“Yeah. Now it’s just the others. John Paul I’ve asked mum if it’s alright for you to come to dinner tomorrow.”

“And?”

“She says okay.”

Oh he just bet she had – without any fuss at all. “Fine by me, but wouldn’t you rather come out without me there?”

“We’re a couple – it’s about you, John Paul; I want you there.”

“Okay. Is Jake going to be there?”

“They all are.”

Darren too. Just fabulous. “Do I need to wear a suit and tie?”

“Well you can do, but you’ll look a right plonker.”

“So, smart casual then.”

“That’ll do.”

“Will you come over to mine later? Mum’s getting some drinks in.”

“Can I stay?”

“Always.”

 

**

 

He had a brief, rather arid conversation with Sarah while they were collecting the results. She was still seeing that Evan guy and unless John Paul was very much mistaken had become a little...shallow...a lot up herself.

Oh well – all about the company you kept, after all...

He didn’t waste another second’s thought on her.

Observing the frost between her and Craig he gave an inward shrug. So much for being mates.

He and Craig had passed all their exams – 4 As for Craig, 3 As and a B for him. They were ecstatic, didn’t even bother hanging around to celebrate with the others.

They had plans to make.

 

**

His mum had told him not to be late, kissed and hugged him like he was a prisoner on Death Row facing execution come sun down.  
**

 

He felt like said prisoner as he sat at the Dean table, the siblings clearly wondering what the hell he was doing there.

Frankie had been making brittle conversation with him ever since he’d got there and it was doing his head in. Craig, just come out already he wanted to shout.

Well he must have heard him because the next thing he knew Craig was standing beside his mum, facing them all. He looked white as a sheet. “Mum, Steph, Jake.” A pause. “Darren. This is really weird, feel like I’m making a speech or something and as far as I’m concerned there shouldn’t need to be any speeches made about this. Mum, I brought John Paul over, invited him to sit at our table because I’m in love with him – he’s my partner and I want him to be part of the family.”

 

**

“Son what’s happened? Carm turn that music off! Oh my god look at the state of you. Sweet Mother Mary, Craig!”

“Leave it, mum. I’ll take care of him. Down in a minute. Mum, please, turn the music back on. It’ll be okay, just give me a few.”

He saw his sisters’ staring eyes and gaping mouths and realised that he and Craig must look a sight. Well he hadn’t looked in the mirror but he could see Craig – and that what was more than enough. “Do not do anything, go anywhere until I come back down. I mean it.”

“Go on son, take care of him. I promise you no-one’s going anywhere.” Her worry and horror had given way to fury. He knew his family – leave them too long and they’d be halfway to the Dog before he knew what was happening. But he knew his mum could control them when she needed to.

Upstairs he got Craig cleaned up, checked that he wasn’t badly injured – that bastard Jake packed quite the punch. Well he could personally attest to that. Craig had only got hurt trying to stop Jake pounding him to a pulp. The punch coming out of nowhere had rocked his head back, dropped him where he stood. He’d heard screaming and shouting, then the sounds of furniture crockery and glassware breaking, not really with it, head feeling twice its natural size, but then he’d seen Jack and Darren desperately trying to pull Jake off Craig who was curled up on the floor trying to protect his face and kidneys from the furious, out of control blows raining down.

He’d lost it, completely lost it, pushing both Jack and Darren out of the way and wading into Jake, the intent to kill stark in his eyes.

They’d had to get one of the barmen they’d called in for the day to drag him off and hold him back. Jack, coolest head in the room, had seen that getting Craig out of harm’s way and actively demonstrating that he was alright was the only thing that might calm him down.

It had done the trick: Craig was bloodied from head to toe and in obvious pain. Most of the blood seemed to be from other people, however – John Paul’s spraying nose and Jake’s’ bloody face. Craig himself was unbowed, indicating to John Paul that he was okay.

That had been enough. He’d taken him by the shoulders, hardly bothering to do more than swipe at the blood pouring from his nose, assuring Craig he was alright. “I’m taking him home,” he announced and no-one had dared to utter so much as a syllable of protest.

Steph had been crying.

Frankie - nowhere to be seen.

 

 

**

 

Craig hadn’t wanted to talk, just wanted to be held. He hadn’t cried, seemed too shocked for that.

His breathing changed, after a while, and John Paul realised that he’d fallen asleep.

Kissing his forehead he covered him with the duvet and crept quietly to the door.

A godawful racket greeted him as he came to the top of the stairs. Recognising the lazy consonants of a London accent he ran full tilt down the stairs and got Jake Dean by the throat, the easiest thing in the world to throw him out the still open door. He felt the warmth of bodies, the scent of perfume at his back and wasn’t quite quick enough to stop Jacq, Mercedes and oh god, his mum laying into the already battered face of Craig’s brother.

“Stop it.” The voice, quiet, authoritative made them all turn. Craig was in the doorway in the boxers and t-shirt John Paul had had him strip down to. “Let him up.”

“Craig.”

“He’s here to see me.” He wasn’t looking at anyone but his brother. “Come on. John Paul, no.” He put a hand on his arm. “It’ll be alright.” He started up the stairs not waiting to see of Jake were following.

Avoiding every eye around him Jake followed his brother up the stairs. John Paul went after him.

At the door to his bedroom Craig stopped him. “He came to see me, John Paul. I want to hear what he has to say.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him.” He saw Jake staring at the bed. “And I don’t like him being in my room.”  
“I know.” He had a hand – a gently restraining hand – on John Paul’s chest. “We won’t be long. Please, John Paul.”

“I’m staying right here.”

“I know.” He kissed him on the side of his injured nose. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He stroked a hand through Craig’s mess of hair. “Okay, but the first sign-“

“I know. See you in a minute.” He closed the door in his face – gently – but it still felt like a slap.

He wanted Jake to raise his voice, raise his hand to Craig again just so he’d have an excuse for killing the bastard.

He listened closely but heard nothing, not a peep. Hold on there was something. He rested his ear against the door, concentrating hard, trying to work out what the sound reminded him of. It soon became clear a moment later and he leaned away, startled.

It was the sound of a man crying, crying like his heart was breaking.

He walked away, took his sisters aside and told them they were all going for a walk.

Not even Michaela protested.

**

They went to the chippy and ate the chips in the park. Then - well it was long overdue – then he allowed him self to be teased to hell and back over his ‘gayness’ and his ‘gay love affair with your geeky boyfriend’.  
Jacqui claimed she’d known he was bent for a while, just wondered how long it’d take him to admit it.

They all said they’d kinda guessed about him and Craig a while back. He was sceptical, saying with a measure of authority that Michaela couldn’t have known else he’d never have heard the end of it. When he’d seen the look pass between them all he guessed that she’d got the sharp end of Jacqui’s tongue and wisely elected to keep her own counsel – or in Jacqui-speak ‘big gob shut!’

“So what’s it like then?” Carmel, eyes shining.

“What?”

“Craig’s sausage.” Mercedes, drily.

“Urgh, do you mind? I just had sausage and chips!”

“Look I’m not telling any of you nosy cows any thing about Craig’s ‘sausage’ or anything else. It’s private, okay? I don’t ask you lot anything about your blokes’ ‘sausages’ do I?”

“Hey, you!” Mercedes had the grip of a navvy – well she sounded like one so hardly surprising really. “Better not be going anywhere near my fella’s sausage, you.”

“Mercy, Russ’s ‘sausage’ is not my cuppa tea – you’re welcome to keep his ‘sausage’ all to yourself. I’m quite happy with the ‘sausage’ I’ve got, thank you.”

“Not sure I’m going to be able to look at sausages in the same way now,” Carmel lamented, blue eyes wide with horror, or was it sorrow? The others laughed. “But that wasn’t what I meant anyway. I meant what’s it like having sex with another boy?”

“Like having a double helping of sausage and chips – hold the chips.”

This made them all crack up. Oh God could he really expose Craig to this – forever? Christmas, birthdays, weddings?

Jacqui got a text message. It was from their mum, telling them the coast was clear; Jake had gone.

They all looked at him. “What happened, John Paul? Craig looked like he’d been beaten to a pulp and you didn’t look much better.”

“Jacq, I don’t really want to talk about it, but long story short – Craig came out to his family, they didn’t take it well, war broke out.”

“Well if those stuck up bastards want a war they’ve got one,”

“Mercy, no, that is the last thing we want. This is Craig’s family; I won’t see him involved in any kind of McQueen/Dean feud-“

“I won’t see him involved in any McQueen/Dean feud,” Jacqui mocked, unimpressed. “Anyone touches my little brother or his little boyfriend-“

“Oh god.” He had a feeling that word – boyfriend – would be one he’d come, in time, to thoroughly detest.

 

**

 

He went upstairs as soon as Carm opened the door, not even bothering to acknowledge either his mum or the two men in the room.

Craig was in bed – he’d been crying and when he saw John Paul sat up, letting the tears flow again...

John Paul held him, rocked him, mouthed ‘go away’ when he saw the curious faces at the door.

 

**

“He says he’s sorry and I do believe him, but I can’t forget what he did. I can’t go home. Mum won’t even speak to me. It’s such a mess, John Paul.”

He refused to feel guilt - absolutely refused. “What do you want to do?”

“Get away.”

“Craig we haven’t even accepted the offers yet, don’t even know when term starts.”

“Don’t worry about any of that – I got a lot of that sorted. Got a list of accommodation agencies that specialise in student accommodation, got prospectuses and anyway it’s all online. Honestly we just need to find somewhere to live, apply for the loans – all simple admin stuff.” He looked at him. His eyelashes were spiky with tears. “I just can’t stay here, not when it’s like this.”

“I know, I know. Look I can’t promise anything, but remember Auntie Sharon? Yeah stupid question, well she told me her old man had left her his house in Liverpool, I think it was. She said she was doing it up ready to rent, now I’m sure if I ask nicely she might let us rent until we go to Dublin.”

“John Paul that would be brilliant.”

“Of course I’d probably have to do her some...favours. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Well I probably would if I didn’t know she was a dyke.”

John Paul stared at him. How had he sussed that? He remembered how long it had taken him to work out that the woman she lived with wasn’t just a friend. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Craig shrugged. “Gaydar. I’m turning gayer by the day.”

“No seriously, how?”

“Well when you were off doing brotherly duties we had a long talk.” He touched John Paul’s face. “You’re very lucky. I don’t think there’s anything she wouldn’t do for you.”

Yeah he was well aware of how lucky he was. He hugged him tight. “It’ll be alright.”

**

 

At this rate he might as well invite the entire Dean clan to move in

Steph told him to stay; that what she had to say was for both of them.

She hugged Craig, trying for a smile that got nowhere near making it. “Craig, I know Jake came over last night. We tried to stop him-“

“S’alright, Steph, we sorted it.”

She looked at him as though doubting that very much. “Craig I know I didn’t say anything last night, but I’m made up for you, I really am. I can tell you’re happy – happier than you were with Sarah. It’s a sister thing, don’t worry about it.” She’d turned to John Paul and the smile did make it this time. “After he’d been with you – no not like that. Please.” She smacked Craig on the leg. “No I mean just after he’d spent time with you he’d be glowing and you could actually talk to him. And then all those late night ‘phone calls’.” She winked at John Paul.

“Steph!”

“What? I could hear you laughing half the night and then I’d get woken up by-“

“Steph!”

Looking at Craig’s red face peering over the duvet he began to wonder if it was indeed a sister thing –making a show of you – a sister thing.

Yeah definitely a sister thing.

“How’s mum?”

“Oh Craig, don’t worry about mum. I know she reacted badly last night, but you know her – she can’t hold a grudge forever, not against any of us. And we all know you’re her favourite.” She took Craig’s hand, played with the cuticles of his fingers. “She’ll come round, I promise you. Just give it time. We’re all on your side. I know Jake went off on one last night, but he was so upset afterwards. Craig, he’d hate me for saying this.” Quick glance at John Paul. “He was in bits when he came back; wouldn’t talk to any of us, but he was really, really upset. He thinks the world of you, Craig, always has done. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for hitting you.”

Oh add him to that list! He said nothing, feeling that maybe, just maybe it was time to make some tea.

“Fancy a brew, Craig, Steph?”

“That would be great, John Paul. Could I have some coffee?”

“Tea for me, mate and maybe some of those nice custard creams you gave me last night.”

“Never heard it called that before.”

“Steph!”

It was funny, he mused, making his way downstairs how it all came down to sex in everyone else’s mind. Two blokes – sex.

Well what could you do but put up with the double entendres?

He was just waiting for Jack Osbourne to crack his own little joke and then they’d have the full bloody set.

**

Steph had packed for Craig. He’d claimed to be willing to go himself, but a look from John Paul had had Steph telling him not to be silly; she’d do it.

He could see the relief in the set of Craig’s shoulders – he’d been screwing up his courage to brave the family home for days, but he wasn’t really up to it and they both knew it.

He’d made a fuss, telling her not to forget this, leave that behind, but it was just to mask his affection and gratitude.

John Paul held him round the waist, nuzzled his neck, whispering in his ear until he caught the look on Steph’s face and remembered himself.

“That is the sweetest thing I have ever seen.”

“Get going Steph.”

“No really, that is so, so-“

“Bye Steph.” He turned from the door, grinning broadly then launched himself at John Paul.

**

Sharon had come up trumps for them – not only were they allowed to live rent free in the house until their departure the following month but she told them that she’d set it up so that any rent she received would be automatically paid into John Paul’s account to cover the rent for their place in Dublin. She advised them to try to get a place which attracted roughly the same rate as he house in Liverpool so that they wouldn’t have any rent to pay at all.

She also told them to ask her for anything, anytime – money, advice anything.

Craig had been stunned into silence for a while after John Paul relayed the conversation back to him.

“You’re so lucky.”

“We are – we’re both lucky. Matched set, remember – what’s mine? Definitely yours too.”

 

**

The entire troupe were coming to warm the house with them. He’d tried his best to dissuade them but... it hadn’t worked any time in the past so why it would work now he really couldn’t say.

Well at least they had several pairs of extra hands for the luggage. Sharon had fully furnished the house after completely remodelling and redecorating it so they only needed personal items. If he knew Sharon she’d stocked the freezer and cupboard too so they wouldn’t have to spend money on food either.

“All ready?” Jacq was assembling the troops. “How come neither of you two’ve got cars? Useless wassocks.”

Russ and Alek looked at each other and shrugged.

Good idea, lads: best not to answer back.

He turned to see Craig struggling with a case and automatically moved to take it off him. When he looked up he saw them all looking at them. “What?” he demanded.

“Oh nothing. By the way John Paul what the heck were you doing to him last night? They could hear his screams halfway to Old Trafford.”

“Ugh, do you mind? I were trying to blank that out of me mind forever.”

He felt the red tide make its familiar way up his body to eventually light up his face – like a beacon. He ushered Craig out the door. “Er...we’re going in a taxi – by ourselves. You lot can do what you like. And I know you’re lying – we had the stereo on.” He hurried out the door.

“We could hear him OVER the stereo!” came the loud screech.

“Get in quick,” he urged, wondering that Craig could be so slow, but of course he hadn’t spent the last 18 years with these cows.

Well he’d learn – in time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(*) Mary Renault – The Persian Boy (Alexander the Great of his lover Hephaistion)


End file.
